Jokes.

The two of you were sworn enemies, the youngest knights ever.

Turned into laughing stocks for the royal guards.

Jason hated you because you were better than him. (Not thar he'd ever admit it.)

You hated him because he was a prick, just like all the other men who underestimated you because you were a woman.

—×— No woman is ever truly safe in a room full of men. —×— The older guards would pit the two of you against eachother, making you fight for amusement. Paint your faces in clown makeup they stole from the court jesters.

The royal family turned a blind eye. Not associating themselves in the common folk.

The protectors of Gotham were cruel.

All because he was young and you were a woman. —×— You decided to refuse to fight one night, scrubbing off the silly makeup on your face. The white pigment like fire and shame on your flesh.

What happened next truly scared you.

No woman is truly safe in a room full of men.

Trust no man.

Your armor was ripped off you, your garments, your hair pulled out of your updo. Shame.

That was until familiar arms that were around your neck choking you last night were now grabbing you by the arm and dragging you out, covering you with a blanket and into private quaters.

Trust no ally, because sometimes the greatest ally is your enemy.

"Are you alright?" Jason asked, looking away as you dressed yourself, he had dignity. His mother raised him well.

*Those guys are fools to treat you like that." He grumbled, washing off the white pigment on his face.

"Get dressed and get out, you're a liability to me. Im tryna survive in this shitshow." Jason stared at you, now dressed in your armor, handing you your sword. He hated your face., he hated how you fought better, trained harder.

"One last thing. Lock your door." He spoke, pulling out a book from his shelf, plopping onto his bed.