I found this story on m . fanfiction. Net but I'll change a few things in there .
Damian Wayne was genderbent after he was killed, not by heretic but by joker she ended up in Paris for a while where she met (her ) his cousin again , Adrien Agreste;...
Marcel had been true to his word. 6 o'clock sharp, his car appeared at the front gates of Wayne Manor, and begrudgingly, Dahlia dressed herself a black dress , and met her fiance outside.
(I'll add a picture later )
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The drive took only a handful of minutes, as she'd chosen a steak house she'd become familiar with as of recent. options, a fanciful selection of desserts, and though he was not yet old enough to partake, an extensive collection of aged wine .
Marcel had already made the reservations, and Dahlia wasn't sure if she was surprised by the forethought, or intrigued by the eagerness to please.
She looked into her glass, filled to the brim with sparkling water, bubbling and popping as her eyes stared back at him amidst the red of grenadine.
"What do you remember anything of our family?" Marcel smiled at her over the candlelight, chin resting atop her laced fingers.
His blue eyes flicked between tamed amusement and fervent hunger- for what, Damian was unsure, be it food or something more and she didn't care to differentiate.
But those eyes almost looked red in the low light of their balcony table.
What did he recall of the dupain-chengs? Well, she remembered her mother's mention of them, and in hindsight, wondered if the sly curl of her lip had been a tell of what was to come.
Marcel made it sound like his sister had been promised to him all along, which meant few interactions with her mother implicating them had been purely conversational.
"I remember your father," Dahlia sipped at herglass. Marcel leaned forward with interest.
"I remember Mother talking about him." Tom dupain-cheng the man with the brown .
The man with eyes he could only vaguely recall, gruff and hard to read under the furrowed eyebrows.
"So you really don't remember my sister and I? Not at all?"
"I'm afraid not."
The candle flickered, and so did the smile on marcel's face . The darkness hid him well, but he wasn't trained to mask emotion the way Dahlia been (he assumed).
His mouth tipped downward, for just a moment, but she saw it nevertheless.
he readjusted so that his hands hid the half of his face that fell below his nose, trying to hide it, failing miserably.
Dahlia felt her stomach twitch. "I'm sorry. I try not to remember most of my time at The League."
Marcel raised an eyebrow at her disbelieving, perturbed. Why? He masked it with a smile. "No need to apologize, My Love. This simply would have been easier if you had some baser recognition of myself or my family, a foundation, if you will, to build upon."
