As they descended the ladder that led into the Cistern, Joie could hear the familiar voices of her guild brothers chattering, gathering around curiously as soon as they realized she and Brynjolf had returned. It had been more than long enough, and she had to admit that she'd missed being there, surrounded by friends. The young woman paused, waiting for her red haired companion to make his way down, a relaxed smile on her face that took a sudden turn towards predatory as soon as she spied Vipir amongst the others. It was her best chance to take him by surprise and she wouldn't miss it, no matter how inappropriate the moment. She acted quickly, without giving anyone the time to interfere, and took a couple strides towards him; then, out of the blue, Joie did what she'd been waiting to do since the moment she had set her eyes on the Bards College's notice board a few days before.

She gave him a swift kick to the chest, sending him sprawling backwards into the water without a sound apart from the heavy impact, then squatted down to look at him. This went even better than how I had planned.

"Hey, Vipir! I've read your porn!" The look on his face turned from shocked to amused, and he grinned as he clumsily stood up, cursing under his breath. She pointedly ignored the confused looks from everyone else, especially Brynjolf, who stared at her for a few moments, utterly bewildered; helping her friend out of the water, she just listened as everyone gave up and turned to her mentor to ask questions about what transpired inside the dwemer ruins.

"So you come back home from a rampage of revenge and all you want to talk about is how I took some artistic licenses with that silly thing?! Some things never change, do they?" He looked around for a cloth to dry himself up with, and immediately gave up, just standing awkwardly as he watched the others crowding around the ladder.

"We've done so much stuff, and you still felt the need to invent things? Really, Vipir?" She pouted jokingly without looking at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she met Brynjolf's gaze, enjoying the silent, helpless plea he gave her as he tried to reply to every question. "Plus, I don't appreciate people knowing what I do in my free time."

"Whatever, so I take it you guys killed…?" The way he looked at her impatiently gave her an idea, and so she took the joke to the next level, beginning to rant, trying to look as oblivious as possible.

"… it's not very nice, you know? I'm fine with you guys knowing about it, because you're my friends, but to expose me to the public like that? Are you serious? I'm sort of famous now!"

"I don't… Joie, answer me! Did you…?"

"And I was so nervous when I saw this and it made me angry, because really, what is with people and the sort of reputation you get when you sleep around a little? Everyone's writing about me like I'm this sexual predator ready to defile just anyone… I've never had this happen to me, since I've never settled down anywhere before, but, woah! What is wrong with people?!" That's actually true, I did get angry. No matter, the look of confusion on his face before he snorted amused her to no end.

"… now you're just messing with me."

"Yeah, yeah, I've driven my swords into his chest. He should be dead, unless he lacks a heart. I don't know, Vipir, is heartless a word you'd use to describe Mercer Frey?" Well, now you're just trying to convince yourself, aren't you? The lack of a visible corpse meant nothing. Rocks fell and closed off all possible exits except the one they stood in front of for almost an hour, as Karliah had nervously requested. She turned around to look at him, suddenly feeling a little tense, but her fretful smile dissolved into a relieved one when she saw Vipir grin back, and give her a friendly pat on the back.

"I don't know if you're high on something or very, very happy, but I'm guessing the second one."

Joie nodded, her hands diving into her heavy backpack before handing him a number of sheets of paper, handwritten; the same ones she'd torn off the notice board. All save for one, of course, but nobody needed to know about that.

"Oh, whatever, I'm in a good mood. Let people spread the word about what they think I do in the privacy of my bedchambers. You're free to go put these back on, if you wish. I know you'll put up more chapters of that horror anyway. You know, for a moment there I thought I'd burn that damned notice board! I was just so annoyed…"

"You're doing it again, Giggles", he warned, and she just chuckled to herself, shrugging, locking gaze with the redheaded Nord again. Poor Brynjolf, I should probably help him answer the others. They'll want tales of our revenge. Vipir took the papers, spared one look at them, and placed them on a nearby shelf; only then he followed her gaze to their superior, then looked back at her, and something in his eyes, unbeknown to her, shifted maliciously. "Ah. I see…"

"Mmmh? What?"

She didn't have the time to turn to him. Moving so fast that even she couldn't dodge, he pushed her to fall inside the cistern. Spluttering and flailing, she stood up, trying not to succumb to the fit of giggles that came over her and inhale water as her fellows turned around to look at her, annoyance and some traces of amusement on their faces. It was good to be back home.

Honeyside was a lovely place to live in, but at first she had feared she would miss the company. Staying alone had never really stopped being an oppressive experience for her; too used to sharing living arrangements with her brothers, now she felt out of her depth, bare to whatever terrifying thought might suddenly decide to stroll through her mind. She had almost decided to resort to it for quick trysts only, until that trouble with the Skooma dealers happened, and her clumsy attempt at getting a supply of goods to sell off somehow earned her a title. Thane of the Rift. As it turned out, with titles came bodyguards too, or, as the Nords loved to call them, Housecarls.

"My Thane!" Iona almost screamed, letting the spoon fall back on the platter with a soft clang, and briskly standing from her chair. "You've been away for so long! I almost feared… It's, uhm. Good to see you again." Joie smiled and gestured her to sit back down, dropping her fur cloak on a nearby chair and taking her place on another , her travel boots creaking slightly as she shifted.

"It's good to see you, Iona. I'm fine. I trust nothing bad happened while I was away?" Joie tried not to chuckle as she remembered their first days together. At first, once she'd gotten over the delicious irony of being appointed thane while an active member of the local thieves guild, she'd wondered what use could she ever have for a Housecarl. It sounded like more of a bother than an advantage. She didn't like having someone around while she brought her lovers home, not to mention it was one more person seeing her in guild leathers and leaving at odd hours in the night. Soon, though, Iona's earnest loyalty grew on her. She may not have approved of some of her activities, and may have worried a bit too much for her well-being, but it made the house feel less empty, and she'd quickly turned out to be the mother figure she never had… though a slightly clumsier, more battle-inclined one she would've imagined.

"Everything is as you left it, my Thane. You…" She eyed her split lip and the darkened bruise on her temple critically as she poured her some hot horker stew, ignoring her repeated offer to just sit down. "Are you certain you're alright?" There it was, the stern glare she gave her whenever Joie gave her cause to worry. If it wasn't disrespectful, as apparently so many things were, the Breton was certain the other would've chased her around to brush her hair and make sure she wore clothes warm enough before leaving the house.

"Very much so. And I think I remember asking you to call me by name."

"That would be disrespectful, my Thane", she firmly refused, shaking her head, though the softness in her eyes betrayed her relief. It wasn't just that she was tasked with guarding her safety; she cared for her. Why, Joie wasn't certain, but she had soon learnt not to let it bother her too much. It was endearing. Pleasant, even.

"I'm going to have a guest after dinner. And I will leave again early tomorrow, alone… I won't be gone for as long as I was, this time, though."

The look on the housecarl's face wasn't too thrilled, but she nodded dutifully, resuming her meal, though more quickly now. "I'll get some bathwater ready for you, then." Joie begun eating, too, lost in thought for a short while, and allowed her gaze to scan the house, a thoughtful look on her face. Brynjolf was right. He had only been there a couple times, but, gods only knew how, he had managed to notice how impersonal the decorations were. None of that stuff had been bought by her; she had only approved the choices made by the Jarl's steward without too much thought. The only thing she owned was the portrait sitting above the fireplace. It looked a bit warmer, away from the altar, but maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

Maybe I should make a trip to the market, in the next few days. See if I can get something to put on these shelves. I never realized how much it bothered me, to see them empty.

This is my house, after all.

"Iona?"

"Yes, my Thane?"

There was a moment of silence while the two women looked up from their food, a sudden tension in the air. Joie swallowed, then relaxed, observing the other quietly for a couple more seconds before finally speaking, a strange, new gentleness in her voice.

"Thank you." The redhead widened her eyes in surprise, weighing her words before opening up in a smile and speaking.

"You're welcome."

It was good to be back home.

It felt like years had passed since the last time she'd worn a dress. The fabric was admittedly a bit too thin to be worn outside, especially in Skyrim, where the cold bit hard and cruel, but she enjoyed the way the soft cloth clung to her forms, her skin clad in a perpetual caress. It was so different from the harsh roughness of thicker attire, or from the burden of armor, which, no matter how safe it made her feel, kept her always on edge, always ready to flee or fight. Dresses were kept for special occasions, for moments in which she felt secure and safe – which weren't many. Even while naked in bed, the reassuring poke of a blade under her pillow was enough guarantee for her safety; but the pretty dresses, soft and lovely and so inherently frail… those brought her mind to a different place.

She eyed her form in the stained mirror one last time, wondering whether it was too risqué an outfit for an evening like that, embroideries hiding what transparent cloth would've shamelessly displayed, a blossoming of dark green airiness and opaque, shiny black. Brynjolf had made it clear a few nights before that he would need time to get over her latest act of recklessness, and since that time she had avoided pushing the issue. Waking up by his side was enough. And yet… no, that was a fine dress, downright respectable if compared to the scraps of cloth she'd sometimes greeted her lovers in, and it would have to do. If he truly felt for her the way he claimed to, which she still had trouble wrapping her mind around, he wouldn't object to her choice in attire. And what right did he have to, anyway? By the Goddess, why am I even thinking about this?! It's nothing but a dress! It's supposed to show him that I'm comfortable around him, and that's it!

It didn't matter how much she berated herself for it, though; there was a silly little creature gnawing at her heels, and its name was nervousness.

Joie headed to the staircase, noticing that Iona had locked the door to her own room, clearly in an effort to prove her that she would never dare to interfere, and probably in silent protest, too. She'd been nagging at her an awful lot, though always in her own polite way, and kept asking her which one of her friends it would be. When she realized that this was a new one, or at least one she hadn't met yet, she seemed slightly displeased, and had made a comment about commitment and life companionship that the Breton had chosen to reply by asking her when would she ever find herself a lover.

Maybe I should apologize for that. I had no idea I'd hit a weak spot with that one.

She was considering heading back downstairs when the knock at the door prompted Joie to snap out of her chair, and hurriedly head over to the door, without even taking the pain to ask who was there before opening it. Indeed, he was standing right there, a scoundrel's smile on his lips, and all she could do for a moment was to take a step back and grin, before gesturing to come inside. "Perfect timing", she joked, and was delighted to see that he didn't hesitate before walking in.

"I would never keep you waiting, lass." He nodded at her gesture, sat down at the table, the candles and fireplace providing just enough light to bring about an air of intimacy in the room. "You look beautiful."

"Always so generous with your compliments, Brynjolf. What are we ever going to do once you've finished them?" The wine had already been poured, but he didn't touch his cup, just leaned over to take her hand, and rub his thumb over her wrist.

"I'm going to find some new ones, of course."

Her smile came somewhat late, but was nothing but earnest. Once again, she had to remind herself that he didn't plan to leave her anytime soon. Or so he claimed… but she'd take the risk.

The conversation had flown easily, despite how shaken they still were over the events of the last few weeks. It led them from the table, to the bed, and then under covers, and before she knew it they'd been entwined, kissing and touching, with Joie peeling all articles of clothing off his skin in wild abandon. He didn't seem to mind this sudden, predatory side of her, but made no attempt at doing the same, only lingered under her with a little grin that was a mockery of resignation. This, she could deal with. It was easy, and fun, and both of them seemed relaxed and comfortable where they were.

It was only after he'd started responding to her playful assaults, that doubt crept in her mind that there might be something different, tonight. His hands hesitated on her forms, grasping a bit too hard what they bared, and his lips and teeth shifted upon her skin with almost bruising passion. It wasn't the way it had been with Mercer, who aimed to break and mark, although the hunger certainly was of a similar brand. Joie had known this sorts of touch before, the night before she'd left a lover she'd lingered with for a whole week before departing once again. It was the touch of terrified man. An attempt at possessing something he doubts to truly belong to him, but peppered with hesitation, uncertainty, which she would've found quite unattractive if there was anyone but Brynjolf over her, right now. She stopped him with a kiss, a patient, gentle one, and a warm hand on his cheek, covering his scar.

"You're still thinking about Irkngthand."

"Hard to shake that off my mind, lass. I'm sorry…"

"We can stop here." She could see very little of the look on his face, but she was certain he had to look absolutely crestfallen as she slipped from under him and crawled to his side, with her back to him. "You don't want this." Maybe she was being unfair. But maybe he really needed her to give him space…

Such an idiot. His hand on her arm, pulling her back under him, firm but gentle, was enough of a proof. He kissed her, but he was less uncertain, now, and so she yielded easily to him, even as he resumed kissing her neck, her shoulders, down to her breasts.

"I do. I want this…"

"But…?"

"No but. Not tonight."

And oh, he was proving it alright. Hard and warm, filling her stomach with the most delightful tingles, so firm against her thigh he would easily slip inside if only he'd moved a little bit… She reached out between them, started stroking him as he pinned her down with his kisses, and soon enough there was no longer a single trace of doubt in him. No, there was just passion, a loving and yet forceful sorts of passion, one she was happy to succumb to, trembling as though that was her first time. It didn't feel new, not like their first touches had… But, by the gods, it feels so incredibly intense. Almost enough to make me forget who we are. And where.

After they were both spent, and half asleep, he was still kissing her. She held onto him, for once comfortable in her vulnerability, and smiled quietly as he left one last kiss on her wrist before wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. The silence that followed was filled with rest and warmth, and not of regrets, and that was all that mattered.

It was good to be finally home.