When the news broke that billionaire Bruce Wayne’s daughter Marinette was dating the Roy, the son of billionaire Oliver Queen, it was like the world paused.
It was bigger than Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Bigger than the royal wedding; both of them.
Bigger than the twilight love affair.
The Angel Marinette, the newfound princess of Gotham, dating the wayward Bad boy Roy, the prince of Star City.
Roy was handsome, really smart, funny, had a kickass attitude, played guitar and soccer, and loved animals; at least that’s what Jason told her Because Marinette had never met the guy.
People were betting on when they’d get married, have kids, what they’d name them…
And Marinette doesn’t even know the guy. I never had a single conversation with him.
Now Jason wanted her to… What?
“Come on!” Jason begged. “Just let him take you to the ball.”
Marinette sat at her desk, with arms cross, glaring furiously at her brother, as she contemplated murder. “No.”
Jason tossed his hands up in the air, “He’s really great. You’d like him.”
“I don’t care if reveals he’s actually Tom Holland ala Hannah Montana style,” Marinette growled. “No.”
“He’s in a bind,” Jason pleaded with his sister, giving her the biggest puppy dog eyes, he could muster. “His dad’s been giving him a lot of grief lately about him going to college and taking over the company one day and the bad press he’s been getting. Once Roy said he was taking Wayne’s princess to the ball, it stopped.”
“Why did he even say it?” Marinette yelled.
“He’s a moron!” Jason yelled back. “But he’s my best friend. He’s rich. He’s handsome. He comes from a great family. He’s strong. Gotta nice bad boy thing going on. A motorcycle. Sorta mysterious. How could you not want to date him?”
Marinette chuckled, “Maybe because I’m starting to think you might be.” She eyed him. “If this you two using me as a beard or whatever, cool. But Bruce Wayne and Oliver queen both been seen with Male lovers, I don’t think they’d mind…”
Jason glared at her, “I’m not dating Roy. Redheaded dudes are a little creepy.”
“Are they now?” Yeah, Marinette thought, really selling.
Jason pinched his nose, “Didn’t you ever wanna be Cinderella? Go to the ball with the Prince? Roy is that prince. The only one above him would be an actual prince. I thought all little girls did? Can you do it, please? For me?”
That’s when Marinette remembered the first time she saw Disney’s Cinderella. She had been six. It was Christmas. She had fallen instantly in love with the movie, the dress, the songs, the prince so much so that she talked about being Cinderella to her parents. Her dad just laughed and told her to write Santa. Ask him to make you Cinderella.
And so six-year-old Marinette did.
And now nearly ten years later, staring at her brother, she now knew… Santa had a hit list. It was the only explanation. Santa was gunning for her. Seeing what it took to break her. Finally, get her on the naughty list. Be careful what you wish for after all.
“I want to meet him,” Marinette said slowly with a defeated sigh.
“Yes!” Jason cheered. “I know the Cinderella thing would work.”
