The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

Age of Ultron: Chapter Three

Maria Hill had diligently braided Marie's hair tight against her scalp, pulling it away from her face so people could "see her beautiful smile," or some bullshit like that. Nat, meanwhile, had brushed all sorts of makeup over her face. Marie couldn't remember much of what she did, only that it wasn't cakey, and she didn't particularly mind it.

Marie fingered the end of her ponytail. Her hair had been wrestled flat and into a ponytail, with three braids running (and pulling) from each temple to join the ponytail. It was different. She caught herself going to tuck her hair behind her ear countless times in the last five minutes. Instead, her hands fluttered over her dress and pulled at the hem.

A leather jacket hung from the chair beside the mirror. Marie eyed it, glancing down at her arms. It was one thing to see her white tick marks, they at least passed off as a strange tattoo. The HYDRA mark wasn't so bad either; she considered it a testament of her strength.

No. It was the claw marks that made her hesitate. Jagged, large, and savage. They looked painful. They made her look like a victim, someone to pity and comfort with a light pat to the shoulder and a slight shake; quiet words offering help if she needed someone to talk to.

God, it was an endless pity parade.

Marie slid the cool leather on and nodded at her reflection. It made her look edgy, moderately attractive with a hint of danger. The click of her heeled boots straightened her shoulders. With the confidence of Natasha Romanoff and the independence of Maria Hill,  Marie abandoned her reflection and left her room.

Music played quietly a few floors below. It was semi-formal, so no thumping base (Pepper made sure of that). It sounded vaguely classical, something Nat or Bruce would listen to. Marie grinned as the elevator doors closed. The tension between those two was amusing; a sort of cat-and-mouse game where Bruce was the mouse and Nat was the cat that ate the canary.

More amusing, however, was the sight that greeted Marie when she arrived at the Party Floor.

Thor self-consciously brushed his hair back, staring intensely in the mirror as he straightened his suit jacket. Marie smiled as she walked up behind him.

"Mid-Midgardian looks good on you."

Thor looked at her reflection. "You as well, dear Marie."

"Do you need help with your-your hair?" She was half-teasing him, but Thor smiled gratefully and looked down at himself.

"I do not feel that my "flowing locks," as Stark says, are appropriate for the occasion."

Marie laughed and stepped behind Thor. Secretly, she was more than excited to play with Thor's hair. It looked like it was spun of gold. She breathed deeply to calm herself, running her fingers through his hair.

"Well, you could try-try this?" She pulled his hair back into a low ponytail. "It's simple but-but-but different. I hear the whole seven-seventeenth century thing is really coming back."

Thor pursed his lips and tilted his head in the mirror. Marie bit her lip to hide her smile and let a few shorter pieces fall and frame his face, including the black strands woven into his hair. That seemed to seal the deal.

Marie took the tie from Thor's hands and tied his hair back. The god turned to her with a chivalrous smile and took her hand. "I thank thee, Lady Marie, for thine kind assistance. Doth the lady permit me, but a humble man, to escort her to the ball?"

She couldn't stop herself from giggling and slipped her arm through his. "Thank you, good sir."

Thor's low and joyous laughter joined hers. The pair were still making ridiculous remarks in increasingly ridiculous posh accents when Tony bounced over to them.