𓍯 ִֶָJESTER. ⚚༝༚༝༚

You lay on the ground, hidden in a damp alley, your body badly beaten. The blows from your debt collectors had been merciless; you hadn't been able to pay off that enormous debt, and the price was your own blood, which now trickled slowly from your chin. You curled up, waiting for the next blow with your eyes closed, but the blow never came. Instead, an icy silence filled the alley.

With difficulty, you managed to open your one uninjured eye. Your heart leapt at the sight: there was Jester. His usually impeccable appearance was slightly disheveled, though he didn't have a scratch on him. Around him lay the lifeless bodies of the men who had hurt you.

Jester approached you with unusual speed. His usual cold and indifferent demeanor had completely vanished, replaced by an expression of genuine concern that you had never seen in him before.

"I've been looking for you..." she murmured, her voice trembling with a mixture of fury and relief. "I was alarmed when I saw you didn't come."

He knelt before you and cupped your face with extreme gentleness. As tears continued to stream from your eyes, he began to gently stroke your cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away the traces of blood and tears.

"Hey... look at me," he whispered, his voice unexpectedly tender. "You're safe now. No one will ever lay a hand on you again. I'll make sure a very different ending is written for those who dared to touch you..."