A/N: Got another chapter of fluff for you. Mostly with Arya this time with a little Sansa. But there's a hint of final plot brewing at the end~ And some new faces showing up in the fic. Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 55: Old Friends

It took a couple of months, as expected, before the press calmed down about Arya's return. They were still reporting on it and trying to score interviews with her. But most of them had ceased stalking the edges of the Stark property or trying to ambush Arya when she went out. The Starks could start accepting visitors more often without worrying about letting a vulture through the gates. Arya had learned that many reporters were willing to get arrested for trespassing to score a good story.

Sansa was much improved as well. She still didn't feel like going outside much. Her kidnapping by Bolton was in the presses as well. They couldn't avoid that with Baelish soon going on trial. So she was skittish of leaving the house, especially without company.

"If you ever want to brave the town, I'll go with you," Arya said. "I'm not worried about what they think of me. I'll twist someone's arm if they try to harass you."

"I'd like to see that," Sansa smiled softly. "But I think until the trial…it's best to stay out of the public eye."

Arya agreed on that account. But with so many heavy hitting law firms, witnesses and culprits, it seemed as if the trial would never come. This had quickly turned into the most complicated case in the history of King's Landing. Sansa, her mother, Jon, Robb, Tywin, Tyrion…all of them would have to play witness at some point.

"Well," she said. "The offer stands. And I can teach you some self defense too. Just in case I'm not there."

Sansa took her up on that offer. Arya gave her instructions the same way she gave Myrcella. But Sansa, tall as she was, had the advantage of a longer reach. If she could put that to use, she could easily fend off a reporter—or worse. Hopefully she wouldn't have to. Arya wanted everyone in her family to catch a fucking break.

But all and all…the good far outweighed the bad.

Like one morning, when Arya was considering braving the outside world to visit Myrcella and Rickon popped his head into her room.

"Arya? You have visitors."

Arya's brow furrowed. "Visitors…plural? Are we supposed to be letting in visitors?"

Rickon grinned. "Figured you'd want me to let in these ones, yeah. They're old friends of yours."

Arya's eyes widened and she hurried for the stairs. Looking down from above, she saw three boys waiting at the bottom. Three familiar faces from her school days. The ones she always got into mischief with. Lommy. Hotpie. Gendry.

"There she is!" Lommy called as he saw her first.

"Wow," a wide smile broke across Hotpie's face. "It's really you. You got taller."

"Barely," Gendry said with the smallest of smiles.

Arya rushed down the stairs, taking two at a time. She pulled all three of them into a hug at once as best she could.

"Gods I've missed you guys," she said, squeezing tight. It was true. She had. She'd just…had so little time to think of them with everything happening. And it hadn't really struck her until this moment that despite all of these years, Arya Stark still had friends.

"We missed you," Lommy say, pulling back. "No one to punch Joffrey Baratheon in the face after you left." He winced. "Or should I say that? He's dead now. Am I supposed to want a dead man punched in the face?"

"We'll let it slide," Arya grinned. "You could have punched him for me."

"None of us were rich like you," Gendry said. "Couldn't have gotten away with punching a Lannister and a Baratheon, you know?"

"We'd get sued!" Hotpie said. "That's what rich people do when you hit 'em right?"

"Some rich people I guess," Arya said. Out in the back yard, she could hear the dogs howling and yapping and she glanced in their direction. "Dogs are going crazy over something."

"It's cause we brought a dog to meet them," Gendry said.

"You have a dog?" Arya asked.

"Sort of," Gendry headed for the backyard. "Follow me."

She did, out into the yard where the dogs were circling about each other, yapping and howling. Grey Wind. Ghost. Summer. Shaggy Dog.

Arya's eyes widened at the sight of the fifth dog amongst them. "Nymeria?"

Her dog's head poked up from the pile. She dropped to her knees as the great beast came bounding over to her, licking her face frantically. Her cheeks must have tasted of salt because she was laughing and crying all at once.

"How?" she asked, trying her best to look up at Gendry through Nymeria's affectionate attacks.

"Found her in a shelter about a year ago," he said. "They had her labeled as aggressive. Apparently, she doesn't like most people. But…she recognized me, so I took her home." He shrugged. "I meant to bring her back to your family. But then I worried it might bring up bad memories or…I don't know. I guess I wanted to wait a little." He pet Nymeria's head as she circled by him. "Maybe it was selfish but…I liked having her around. I missed you too."

Arya swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. For being gone for so long."

"Not your fault," he said.

In a way it was. But now wasn't the time to tell him the real story. She wrapped her arms around Nymeria's neck, burying her face in her fur.

"Thank you. For bringing her back."

"She's yours," Gendry said. "You know how they say people's personalities start to blend with their dog's."

"That's true for sure," Lommy said. "Because she growled when she first saw me again."

"She growls at almost everyone who's a stranger," Hot Pie said. "But once she warms up to you, she's a softie."

"You calling me a softie, Hot Pie?" Arya asked.

"No, no." Hot Pie put up his hands. "I would never."

"Out loud," Gendry said.

Arya laughed, patting Nymeria on her haunches and sending her back out into the crowd of dogs. They were just as happy to see their litter mate home safe. And Arya was ecstatic to be sitting like this in her backyard with her friends.

Just like old times. It was all returning to normal. And slowly but surely, so was she.

Sansa had gotten plenty of visits from Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole during her recovery—visits she welcomed since she was so nervous to go outside. But one chilly afternoon, she received an unexpected visitor. Margaery Tyrell appeared in the parlor, holding a bundle of flowers in her hand.

"I'm sure you've gotten a ton of these," she said. "But my family sort of specializes in flowers. So I had to add to the pile."

Sansa smiled a little. "You're in luck. Most of the flowers we got initially have died by now."

"That is the unfortunate thing about bouquets," Margaery said. "They never last long." She held up the vase a little. "Where should I put them?"

"Ah…the coffee table. Right here," Sansa indicated the spot. "Thank you. You really didn't have to go to the trouble."

"No. I should have gone to the trouble long before," Margaery said. "Just…didn't want to bother you I suppose."

"I don't mind you bothering me," Sansa said. "It's nice to have a new face at the house."

"A new face that isn't a reporter, right?" Margaery sat down beside her on the couch, looking around the room. "It's been a while since I've been here. I came once or twice. When your family hosted a dinner party. And I was in your brother's year so…"

"I remember," Sansa murmured. "The two of you won prom king and queen one year."

"Yes, we did," Margaery said. "Total publicity stunt. I told him that if we worked together, we'd be a shoe in for the title. And, as always, I was right." She smiled. "Your brother is a cute one. Just not quite my type."

"He and Renly are different," Sansa agreed.

Margaery glanced at her. "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

Sansa's cheeks heated. "No, I…I know."

Margaery sighed. "I'm sorry. If I've ever made you feel uncomfortable. My life has been so complicated lately and sometimes I take that out on people."

"You've never taken anything out on me," Sansa said.

"Yes, I have," Margaery said. "I've teased you. Tried to get little reactions out of you. It wasn't kind of me."

"Oh," Sansa said. "Was that all it was? Trying to get reactions out of me?"

"It doesn't have to be," Margaery said. Her delicate hand rested on Sansa's knee. Sansa's heart fluttered when her thumb stroked across her bare skin. "Have you ever kissed a girl, Sansa?"

"In…truth or dare," Sansa said lamely.

Margaery smiled. "Let me show you how to do it for real then."

Her fingers traced beneath her chin. A moment in which Sansa could have pulled away. But she didn't. She didn't want to. Because she wanted Margaery to show her what it was like.

Her lips pressed against hers. They were softer than most of the lips she had kissed before. Soft and sweet from whatever lip balm she was wearing. Something strawberry? Sansa couldn't tell. But she liked it a lot.

Margaery broke the kiss after a long moment, letting her nose rub against hers. "Well?" she asked. "How was it?"

"Good," Sansa murmured. "Would have been better…if you weren't a married woman."

"I can promise you, my husband doesn't mind," Margaery said. "He spends most of his time with my brother."

Sansa blinked. "Oh."

"Yes. Oh." Margaery smiled. "I suppose my brother and I both have very different tastes."

"I guess so," Sansa said. "I have a lot of tastes."

"I've noticed," Margaery said. "I've seen some of the people you've kissed." She raised her eyebrows. "How do I rank?"

"Better," Sansa said. "Better than all of them."

She kissed her again. She wanted another taste of strawberry. She'd never liked that flavor quite so much as now.

Margaery was laughing when they pulled apart again. She clasped her hands in her own. "You should come with me to High Garden."

"What?" Sansa asked.

"It's away from everything. You'd be able to avoid the press," Margaery said. "And you can't just hide away in this house until the trial is over and done with. You'll go crazy." She twisted a piece of Sansa's hair around her finger. "Let me take you away. You'd look lovely in the garden with the other flowers."

"Would I be welcome there?" Sansa asked.

"You'd be my personal guest," Margaery said. "Of course you would be. And your mother doesn't have to know all of the details."

"I don't think she'd mind if she did," Sansa said. "My sister has…similar tastes. It's just the…kissing a married woman part."

"As I said. My husband won't mind a bit," Margaery smiled. "Just two girls enjoying each other's company. Nothing suspect about that."

Sansa considered it. The Tyrells, at least, were not involved in any wrong doings against her family specifically. There was question about their involvement with Stannis, but it was mostly her grandmother who had something to gain from all that. Sansa did not think Margaery was culpable in that. She was simply…trying her best.

"I'll think about it," she said at last. "I want to. But after everything that's happened…I don't want to be too far from my family."

"I understand," Margaery said. "You have my word that you'll be safe there. But maybe…while you're thinking about it you can come visit me at our house in town? It doesn't have the gardens, it's very nice. We've been staying there recently for business. My grandmother has been trying to take advantage of the rapidly changing markets. But never mind that." She waved her hand twice. "Lunch there sometime? Maybe?"

Sansa nodded once. "I think I can start with that, yes."

Margaery squeezed her hand. "Good." She kissed her again. "Make sure to keep those flowers in water. I want them to keep going as long as possible."

Sansa giggled. "I will. Promise."

After all, even if they were doomed to fail…they'd be beautiful while they lasted.

Arya wanted to go out on the town with her friends. It had been too long, and the last time they hung out together, they couldn't drink. There was something very freeing and very normal about going out on the town with her boys.

But not just with them. She couldn't help but invite Myrcella along for the ride. She wanted her to meet her friends too.

All three of them were surprised to see Myrcella.

"Really," Lommy said. "I knew someone else was coming to meet us, but I didn't expect her."

"Yeah, she ran in the opposite crowd as us," Hot Pie said.

"Well, now she's running with us," Arya said. "Myrcella, this is Lommy, Hotpie and Gendry."

"Hot Pie is a nickname," Hot pie said, rubbing a hand behind his head. "It's not…my real name."

"I figured," Myrcella smiled. "It's nice to meet you all more officially. I know we didn't talk much in school."

"We didn't," Gendry looked her over. "So how long have you been friends with Arya?"

"Not long," Myrcella said.

"And she's not just my friend actually," Arya said. "She's…my girlfriend."

Hotpie's jaw dropped and Lommy went bug eyed. Even Gendry raised his eyebrows a little.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Oh, grow up. You shouldn't be surprised that I like girls."

"We're not," Gendry said. "Maybe we're just surprised you could get one."

Arya's eyes narrowed and she pointed at Gendry. "Start running."

He did, booking it down the street as she gave chase. She could still hear Myrcella laughing even several meters behind her.

Yeah, she thought. I could get used to this.

After she caught up to Gendry and kicked him a few times, they ducked into the nearest bar. They crowded around a table in the corner, swapping stories and drinking. It was miles away from the last time Arya had been in a bar—standing up against the wall, apart from everyone, wearing a different name.

But she couldn't completely avoid the madness of her life of course. And when she and Myrcella rose to go to the bar and order more drinks, she was inevitably recognized.

It was an inebriated fellow who turned to look at them, leaning slightly on the bar. "You ladies come alone."

"No," Arya said. "There are two of us. What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Oh." The man's eyes widened. "You're that girl."

He started to scramble for his phone and Arya shook her head. "Nope. Put the phone or notebook or whatever you're about to pull out of your pocket away. I'm not doing interviews."

"Just a few questions," he said.

"She said no," Myrcella said flatly, getting in between them. "Hit the road. You're not on duty. I can smell that much on your breath."

Arya smiled a little.

"You're Myrcella Baratheon right," the vulture glanced between them. "I didn't know Lannisters ran with Starks. How long have the two of you been friends?"

"Okay, we're going to go," Arya said, resting a hand on Myrcella's shoulder and ushering her away.

"Hey, wait a second."

The man grabbed Myrcella's wrist. Hard. In his state, he probably didn't realize how tightly he was gripping her, but Arya didn't much care. Her old Beth instincts came right back.

"If anyone puts hands on her, you put hands on them."

She grasped his hand, pinching his wrist in a way that forced him to loosen his grip. Then she gave his arm a twist backward until he cried out. She hooked her foot around his ankle and gave a quick tug. He spilled onto the floor.

"Woah," she said in her best surprised drunk girl voice. "I think he's had a little much. Can someone help him?"

The bartender sent someone over to collect the dazed man. Myrcella was grinning beside her.

"Nice to see my bodyguard back."

Arya smirked. "He put hands on you."

"My hero."

"You have quick reflexes."

Arya turned at the voice. There was a man leaning up against the bar on their other side. He looked familiar—bronzed skin and a dark mustache above a knowing smile. A face she must have seen before but not one she had spoken with.

"I recognize moves like that. They come from a Braavosi form of martial arts," he said, shifting to look at her. "I fought in the war there. Studied there after the war was done."

"Fascinating," Arya said. "Who are you?"

The man's gaze flicked to Myrcella. "Your friend knows. She can make introductions."

"Ah…yes," Myrcella said softly. "Arya this is Oberyn Martell."

Martell. Yes, Arya did know his face. He was the infamously rebellious member of that family. And even though the Martells had lost a great deal to the Lannisters, the media still followed him. He was known for breaking cameras if anyone asked him personal questions or refused to leave him alone when he asked. Arya always admired that and after these past few months, she understood it on a new level.

At least he's not the press, she thought. "How do you two know each other?"

"Myrcella was friendly with my nephew at one point or another," Oberyn said. "Good to see you again."

"You too," Myrcella said. There was a nervous lilt to her voice and Arya understood why. The Martells were famous for disliking Lannisters and they weren't overly fond of Baratheons either. She wondered if they had strong opinions on Starks.

"In any case," Oberyn looked back to Arya. "I've been hoping to speak to you."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"Well, you seem like an interesting person," he said.

"I'm sure the story of my kidnapping makes me very interesting," Arya said.

"Oh, not just that," Oberyn said. "Those moves of yours make you interesting as well. Braavosi, like I mentioned."

"I've studied many forms of martial arts," Arya said. "And I was there during my captivity."

"Of course. You must be relieved to be back," Oberyn said. "It is a shame you were there in such circumstances. It's quite an interesting city. Even if they don't like Westerosi much."

"They don't," Arya said. "But the second war was hard on them, so I can't blame them for that."

"Oh not at all. I'd say their dislike of us is very justified," Oberyn sipped his drink. "Do you know why they lost the war?"

"They pulled their support from Volantis because of internal conflict," Arya said. "They couldn't fight a war on two fronts."

"No. Any strategist knows you can't launch an attack without a strong base," Oberyn said. "But it seems no one can say what weakened their base so suddenly. It is a mystery."

"It sounds very interesting," Arya said. "Listen, I'm sorry to cut this conversation short, but we should get back to our friends."

"Yes, of course," Oberyn said. "Oh." He snapped his fingers. "Almost forgot. This is for your younger brother."

He passed Arya an envelope and she took it, her brow furrowed. "Which one?"

"The Spider said you'd know which one." He took a few steps back, giving her a wink. "He sends his regards."

Arya opened her mouth to reply. To ask how in the seven hells he knew the spider. But he was already gone, and she was left with a mysterious envelope—emblazoned with a back spider on the back—clutched in her hand.

"He works with the Spider?" Myrcella asked softly.

"Seems like it," Arya said. "But that means he clearly knows my real story."

"Clearly," Myrcella said. "Do you think he's…a problem?"

"No," Arya said. "I don't think so. The Spider gave us good intel before. He doesn't seem to be against us." She looked down at the envelope. "But what does he want with Bran?"

"Hopefully information that doesn't pull us into another conflict?" Myrcella suggested.

"Yeah," Arya said. "We'll see."

Arya got home late that night and immediately started toward Bran's room. She was passing by her father's old office late one night when she noticed the door cracked. She peered inside and found Robb there, flipping through some papers. Contracts of some sort. She knocked on the inside of the door.

"Hey. Everything okay?"

"Fine," Robb said. "Just…a lot to deal with after Bolton's arrest. Our numbers are all over the place."

"Can I help with any of it?" Arya asked.

"I wish you could," Robb said. "But I'm not sure how much you know about stocks and contracts."

"Not much," Arya admitted. "I still have to finish high school."

"You will," Robb said. "You were always smart. Good with numbers. I'll bet you can get your diploma no problem."

"Yeah," she said. "That's the plan." She stepped back. "I've gotta talk to Bran about something. Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"I'll try," he said.

She continued onto Bran, turning that envelope in her hand. She found him at his computer as usual. She entered without knocking, closing the door behind her.

"Are you still talking to the Spider?"

"On and off," Bran glanced back at her. "He's been unhelpful lately though. Why do you ask?"

"Because he gave me a note today." She held up the envelope. "Courtesy of Oberyn Martell of all people."

"Oberyn works with the Spider huh?" Bran raised an eyebrow. "That is juicy."

"Definitely not the point," Arya said. "What does he want from you?"

"Well, I won't know unless you give me the envelope," Bran pointed out.

Arya sighed, crossing to him and handing it over. She sat on the edge of Bran's be as he split the seal with his thumb. He started to read. Then his eyes widened and he smiled.

"Oh gods, finally."

"What?" Arya asked.

"He gave me a number," Bran said. "A number to talk to this guy who knows more about Long Night."

"Bran why are you trying to find out more about Long Night?" Arya asked.

"Because it's becoming a problem," Bran said. "Like a real, serious problem. More and more people who take it are showing aggressive symptoms. I think it's clear that someone is distributing a bad strain. Jon's been looking into it too, but he's a cop so people don't talk to him." He tilted his head to the side. "And I think this guy is a wildling so he especially wouldn't want to talk to him."

"Well you can't go alone," Arya pointed out.

"I won't," Bran said. "I have a possible plan. You don't have to worry about it."

"Obviously, I'm going to worry about it," Arya said. "We just got out of a crisis, Bran. Can we stay out of this one? So long as it isn't strictly targeting our family, I think we can stay out of it."

"I'm not entering a crisis. Just trying to find out more about it," Bran said. "If someone is out there trying to weaponize Long Night, it could become a big problem for King's Landing. And we do live there."

Arya exhaled. "Yeah. I know. Just…" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Be careful. And if you need backup, I'm there for you."

"I know." Bran was already turning back to his computer. "Thanks for bringing this to me."

"Thank you Spider friend," Arya said. "And tell him I'm not a carrier pigeon, kay?"

"Will do," Bran said.

Arya slipped out of his room, leaning up against the wall. It was always something with her family. But at least no one among them willingly did drugs. Sansa was almost clear of her withdrawal symptoms.

But if anyone tried to cause some kind of crisis in King's Landing with a sketchy batch of Long Night…she was going to scream. She wanted a god damn break. She wanted room to think about the future without worrying about someone snatching it away.

Was that too much to ask?

A/N: The Long Night Crisis grows. Wonder what it will all amount to. But at least Arya and Sansa mostly got a break this chapter before I make life hard again. As always, review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!