When We Were Young

CHAPTER IV

"I look like a fool."

"Natasha, stop it. You're gorgeous," her mother grumpily replied, zipping up the back of her green halter ball gown for the upcoming prom.

"Someone's gonna wind up asking me how I escaped a Disney film," seventeen year old Natasha sneered at her reflection.

"Natasha, come on now," her father began with a bright grin, "No one is going to think that, moya milaya. They will be too blinded by your beauty to even think a single thought."

She chuckled.

Her mother sighed and rubbed her shoulders for her. She looked at her daughter in the mirror. "We just need to get rid of your caveman look," she said pulling her wild curls back into a high ponytail. "We can straighten your hair if you will like."

"Please tell her not to," Loki had casually sauntered in out of nowhere. Arrogantly leaning against the wall beside her father.

They locked eyes in the mirror and she gave him a small smile before saying to her mother, "I don't mind straightening my hair actually."

Loki smirked and shook his head.

Her father scratched his beard. "I'm not sure. You will still make a beautiful Queen even with those curls, my darling."

"Listen to your father, Natasha," Loki remarked. "Though he isn't completely correct, as you are already a Queen." He winked at her.

Prom was coming too soon and she already imagined becoming Homecoming Queen.

"Either way," Natasha spoke more seriously to her reflection, "I want to win. I want that crown."

"Good. A collection to your many trophies then." Her mother pecked her head.

The only trophies Natasha had were from ballet and a few from academic achievements. She took pride in everything she was awarded. She spun and stared at Loki after her parents walked out. "What do you think? How do I look?"

"My opinion doesn't matter, remember? Go ahead and be rid of those beautiful curls of yours."

"Come here, Loki." She grasped his hand.

Natasha stared at Loki laid beside her on her bed. He was staring up the ceiling as they were sharing her earphones. She hadn't taken her prom gown or her converse sneakers off on her bed. Her wild curls untamed and spilled on the white pillow.

One earphone bud was in his ear and the other one in hers. Music beating softly in their ears.

"I've gotten too old for this, you know. This imaginary friend thing..." she murmued more to herself behind her fingers. She bit her bottom lip staring at him in interest, and told him, "You know you share the same name of a Norse God? And he sounds just like you. Difference is he's passed his teenhood."

His black brows creased and he tilted his head to look at her. His arms remained crossed under his head. "Is that so?"

She nodded.

The corner of his mouth slightly quirked up. "And what else did you find?"

"Loki's wife is Sigyn, Goddess of Victory. He sounds... scary and evil. He can shapeshift and his symbol is a snake," she said softly, her finger tracing the intricate snake engraved on the golden side of his suit. "I must be going insane."

He smirked. "Sigyn."

Her eyes averted back to his face.

"I know her. She is a beautiful girl."