They were a backwards pair, contrasting and stark. It was obvious among their friends and even more so on the tabloid headlines; those who thought they knew the Wayne family whispered, and those who didn't peered at the pictures and the cheap accusations on magazine covers. They were rarely photographed together, making the situation even more puzzling to the Gotham public. Where had she come from? Why did he fall in love with someone so far out of his social circle? Who was she, and what did she have that every other girl her age didn't?
Very few knew that the girl Bruce Wayne's son had fallen in love with appeared far more often than they thought, at stuffy parties and balls and, later, basketball games and in superhero suits that weren't Gotham's own. She had grown from being the sharp-elbowed and fresh-faced preteen that had kept Damian company when male companions wouldn't have sufficed; she was photographed far more often than even the most eagle-eyed gossiper could have pointed out, growing and becoming an adult until she was barely recognizable, compared to her younger self. No longer did she wear sneakers and ill-fitting dresses, standing in the background of many newspaper images, ignored and overlooked.
It made the public uncomfortable, how suddenly she had appeared and how fast their relationship grew. She must be pregnant, the social media sites said. She must be another charity case, just like many of Bruce Wayne's boys had been. But she was neither here nor there, and even among the gossip and the threads on websites she refused to visit, her image continued to plague the gossip column and Cosmopolitan's fashion pages. She was too pale and too short and tried too hard with her heels; her body wasn't ideal and her hair had to be from a bottle.
Just as much attention as she received, her alter-ego spattered hero sighting websites and news. Who was this new little Robin that Batman had taken under his wing? No one had ever seen his face, always covered by a hood. The newest Robin had to have outgrown his costume, but the newest bird wonder seemed to be stepping seamlessly into the same outfit. There were no alterations. It was puzzling, but it wasn't something the public chattered about. As long as they had their hero, they could care less about who suited up.
They cared about what brand of shoes the Wayne's little lover was wearing and what stores she was seen in. They cared about the ring that appeared on her finger and the silence the youngest Wayne son would take up when questioned about it at press meetings and by paparazzi. As much as they dug, no one could seem to figure out when the wedding was or what designer she'd chosen or how much the whole thing would cost.
No one outside the bride and the groom's family knew, and it wasn't until Gotham's police stood outside a certain gothic church that texts were sent, statuses made about the event. They were too late; it had already started, the organ music drifting through open windows. It was spring, and the weather was calm. It wasn't until a little over an hour later that they got the glimpse of the happy couple they wanted, and even then they paused, cameras unfocused.
The photographs didn't do the pair justice. She barely stood at chest-level with Bruce, a little less with his son, walking confidently between her new husband and father-in-law. The trio was closely followed by the eldest Wayne's other sons, creating a close cocoon around the woman that had just become a part of their family. The odd arrangement was overlooked by those who stood by to watch, too enraptured with the woman they had only seen in photographs.
She had a grasp on their hands, her skin pale and dotted with freckles, hair pinned up and swept high off of her neck. She was miniscule compared to the men she walked with, delicate and doll-like, her hands disappearing in the two men's larger ones. What startled the group the most was the lack of white between the two men, a dark charcoal dress with delicate lace and beading taking the place of a traditional gown.
She looked up as Bruce opened the limousine door, whispering something in Damian's ear. A small smile took over his face and she wrapped an arm around his waist, squeezing.
She was Iris West, and she had the Wayne's heart. That was all she needed.