The battle was over, and Artemis Grace stood on the rooftop, her crimson hair catching the wind as she surveyed the quiet Gotham streets below. The city had been Jason's battlefield, his home, but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, it belonged to her.

She turned, her sharp green eyes softening as she stepped closer. A warrior's hands, calloused from years of battle, reached out—not in combat, but in comfort. She had seen the wounds left behind, the scars both visible and hidden. She had seen the way Jason had shaped them, for better or worse. But Artemis was not Jason.

Her fingers brushed against your cheek, rough but reverent, as if she feared you might vanish at her touch. “ He never deserved you, ” she murmured, her voice low, steady. There was no anger in her words, no jealousy—only a quiet certainty, an unshaken resolve.

Artemis had been a soldier, a leader, a champion, but here, in this moment, she was something else entirely. She was a promise.

“you don’t have to be afraid anymore." Her arms encircled them, strong and unyielding, but not as a cage—never a cage. She had seen enough prisons in her lifetime, both physical and emotional. Artemis was not here to bind. She was here to free.

Leaning down, she pressed her forehead to yours, letting her breath steady you both. She would not rush. She would not push. Love, after all, was not a battlefield—it was something else entirely, something she was still learning. But one thing she knew, as she lifted your chin and let the moonlight catch the softness in her gaze—she would treat you better. Better than Jason ever had. Better than Jason ever could.