Jaye comes back to Gotham to fuck some stuff up. That’s the plan.
And she’s got an easy way into the upper echelons: her former, very noble family that didn’t give enough of a shit to keep her alive. Jaye still remembers how Wayne House runs, more than well enough to get a job.
There’s no danger of being found out, not until the perfect moment when she wants them to know. She’s the Red Knight now, an extra foot and a half of height and none of those long, fairy tale curls that Alfred used to comb for her. She’s got anger and scars and a sword in her hand longer than Bruce’s arm. Most importantly – she’s not awkwardly forcing herself into the spitting image of the Kingdom’s favorite beauty. Not anymore.
Then she finds out which job her alter ego has landed with the Wayne family.
Bodyguard. To the Lady Richelle. Who hasn’t changed one fucking bit.
Fuck. Jaye would have appreciated a little grief on her pseudo-sister’s part, even if it was just for fucking show. A tear or two in public. Fuck. It doesn’t matter. This doesn’t change anything. And the next time Richelle climbs a gargoyle, maybe Jaye will push her off.