Being the only female warrior in Asgard was tiring at times. Then again, it could be Sifs constant worry about Thor and her friends.
Maybe it was grief. Losing Loki had been hard on everyone, and it was difficult seeing her friends so downcast. Loki may have been a trickster and a bit annoying at times, but he was family.
She remembered the first time she met Loki. Looking back, she realized that she had always looked up to Thor, but saw Loki as her equal. She had respected Loki, and often thought of him as her own brother. She teased and played with him, often laughing at the pranks he pulled around the castle.
Until it happened.
It was obvious who did it. She had accidentally put him down while praising Thor, and while she had not meant it, he took her words quite seriously.
Sometime during the night, someone had made their way into Lady Sifs chamber while she was sleeping, and, in a moment, cut her beautiful long hair.
Of all the things Sif was proud of, it was her hair. It was long, even for an Asgardian, and she was constantly receiving praise for it.
Lady Sifs long, golden hair, had given her quite the reputation.
When she awoke the next morning, Sif was devastated. The one thing she had been known for, the one thing she had been proud of, was stolen from her in one night.
She did the only thing she could think of; she cried.
Sif refused to leave to eat, sleep, or leave her room. She refused to see anyone or take any visitors for shame.
Thor was the only visitor she allowed to stay. Every day he asked her the same question: Who dared to cut Lady Sifs hair. And every day, she gave him the same answer: she didn't know.
Three weeks later, Thor had convinced Sif to attend a banquet in Odins honor. Sif wore a scarf that Thor had given her to cover her hair, and made sure to make herself as unnoticeable as possible. Her efforts were useless. People kept coming up to her, asking how she was feeling, offering their condolences, but soon, they stopped, seeing Sifs lack of enthusiasm to continue a conversation.
The banquet had ended, and, slowly people started leaving. Sif sat and watched each family leave, waiting for her own parents to exit.
During her wait, she noticed Thor was playing with a new group of boys, most of whom she had never seen before. She almost cried when she thought that Thor would no longer want her as a friend. Humiliated, hurt, and alone, Sif wanted to curl up in a ball and die.
Curling up in a plush chair, she cried herself to sleep.
She woke up to find a little toy dragon in front of her face. Startled, she bolted upright, almost falling out of the chair.
The dragon was her favorite maroon color, and was perfect down to the last detail. Taking it up in her hands, the scales glittered like tiny gems. It was beautiful.
Months went by, and Lady Sifs hair would not grow back. It remained short and jagged, no matter her attempts. She went to social affairs, but made no intention to socialize or talk. Soon, everyone gave up and ignored her.
She became depressed. No one wanted to hang out with her anymore. Thor had a new group of friends, and the other girls had made fun of her for looking like a boy. She knew it was stupid to cry, but she couldn't help it.
Three months after her hair had been cut, it was announced that Loki had gone missing. Odin sent out a patrol to search Asgard, as well as the surrounding worlds. Thors visits stopped altogether; during the past few months they had become infrequent, and often rushed, like he had some other activity planned.
Sif had volunteered to help find Loki, but her parents told her that she was too weak. Looking in the mirror that night, she understood what they meant.
What used to be a strong, beautiful, young woman was now a scrawny, unhealthy looking little girl. Her eyes had dark circles under them, her arms were long and lanky, her hair dirty blonde and scraggly. She wished she had a friend with her, to practice sword fighting, or archery, or just sit and talk. She wanted things the way they were before, with her, Thor, and Loki.
Climbing into bed, Sif spent another night crying herself to sleep.
Loki was gone for a good month when Sif heard something outside her window. She passed it off to be a bird, but when the noise became louder and more frantic, she armed herself with a dagger and opened the window cautiously.
She found a familiar pale face, with jet black hair and bright green eyes. Loki. He climbed into the room soundlessly, then turned around to face Sif.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a vial, and held it out to her.
No words were said. None were needed. Sif knew that this was his way apologizing, by trying to make up for it. Loki felt terrible about what he had done, and had no clue it would hurt Sif so much.
Sif reached out and took the bottle. It was heavy, and bulky, made from the gemstones of the dwarves, whose mountains Loki had taken up in for the past month. As she took it, Loki grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly, then quickly escaped through the open window.
Shivering in the cool night air, Sif uncorked the bottle, and raised it to her lips. She awoke the next morning lying on the floor the window still open. Something was different. She felt a slight throbbing in her hand as she realized the vial had shattered and cut her hand and wrist.
But it was something else. Reaching towards her head, she found not the scraggly, ugly brownish-blonde hair she had grown use to, but curly, golden locks, a little longer than shoulder length.
Shortly after, she began training as a warrior, where she immediately gained Thor and Lokis support and became one of the most appreciated warriors in Asgard, along with the Warriors Three and Thor himself.
Her hair, which had once been blonde, had changed to a dark brown, almost black. She didn't mind. She liked it more than her blonde hair, anyway. It made her stand out. Besides, it was a gift from Loki, along with the little dragon she named Petkuttaja.
Authors note: This is based off of a real myth in norse mythology. And Petkuttaja means trickster in Icelandic. Thought it fit.