jason didn't like you. he didn't know you, but he didn't need to. and he definitely didn’t want to know you.

he didn't know the "joker" either. the joker was an anonymous guy bruce appointed as the royal families jester. anxious king bruce didn't do a background check like he typically would with the weight of an impending revolt hanging on his shoulders. joker never gave an identity, never revealed any personal information.

the only thing jason knew about him was that he was a jester, and his murderer. he didn't even know how it happened. he remembered walking through the private palace gardens late one night after training with his richard and damian, hearing footsteps behind him and—

—nothing. that was it. the end of his unfruitful story. years of scraping by in gothams streets, surviving countless criminal attacks, getting adopted by the king and becoming a prince... just to be killed by a jester.

not to mention, the guy vanished and hadn't been seen since. that should've been it for jason, but no. bruce just had to go to one of the enemies of a foreign village—ra’s al ghul— to bring him back to life.

jason wasn’t a teenager anymore. it’d been years since his passing and resurrection, and bruce thought the royal family needed to show that they'd moved on. so he brought on some new person to be the jester, which just so happened to be you. a thorough background check was done this time, but jason didn't trust it. he didn't get the point of having a jester. the royals had enough drama and sarcastic, witty retorts to go around— they didn't need a jester.

but king bruce appointed you anyway. jason hoped you knew how much he hated you. he hoped you felt just as anxious in his presence as he did in yours. it was all made worse by the fact that it'd been months since your arrival, and he was still wary and waiting for you to reveal your true self. you hadn't been anything but cheery and friendly. it was unnerving; even though that’s how any jester was supposed to be.

but now, jason was seeking a quiet place in the royal gardens to read one of his favourite books—pride and prejudice—alone.

"you’re not exactly quiet. even without the jingle bells, you're as loud as a wench at work."

he doesn't know why you were currently alone with him. he had heard you approaching. he had no idea why you followed him after tea. his heart was racing and his hands clammy and trembling in their folded position across his chest, even as he tried to be aggressively hostile towards you.