Day Two: Silver

Contrary to popular belief, Sif was like any other girl in Asgard. She made it her mission to find the most stylish of dresses, and attended each and every feast at the palace, relishing in her high rank. She smiled at the potential suitors that came her way, and turned them all down with a polite nod of her head. She strived to have the best hairstyle every day, and worried over the latest gossip, laughing at the scandalous whispers around her.

And, like any other girl, Sif had a fragile heart, one that got broken too easily.

Seeing Thor dance with all the other women, hold them close like such cherished porcelain, put Sif in a bad mood, and she found herself needing fresh air more than she needed to see her friend's flirtatious habits.

And so, Sif was out on the balcony overlooking the gardens, her eyes raw and red from the tears dripping down her pale cheeks, stray strands of her ebony hair peeking out from her strict ponytail, the gentle wind chilling her arms, bared by the sleeveless maroon dress she wore, hugging her hips more than anything else she'd ever worn. She sniffled, glancing down at her hands, long fingers gripping the railing so tightly that it made her knuckles go white, her polished nails dusted with gold (a color Thor always adored on her, his casual compliments still ringing, echoed, clearly in her thoughts).

She thought, fleetingly, about him, then, that teenage boy she'd known ever since the early years of her life, that one boy she'd always admired, the boy she'd always loved. And to see him frolicking with all of those beautiful maidens, those golden haired girls with the thoughtless, bright eyed gazes-it was nearly unbearable. It tore at her, somewhere deep down, and Sif hung her head low, swallowing past the sadness, taking deep, shaking breaths to halt the tears in her eyes, stinging and burning and distorting her vision.

...

Loki had long since given up the notion that Thor wasn't naïve, and he smirked as his older brother twirled two girls in his arms, dancing with both at the same time. Their eyes were glassy from the wine, but they seemed to be able to coordinate their movements just fine, and their flitting laughs echoed painfully in Loki's ears, their ignorant smiles reminding him of some kind of thin, cryptic veil, hiding the glaringly obvious from both sides. He turned away, bored with watching Thor gain all of the attention, just in time to see Sif standing at the opposite end of the room, looking for all the world like someone had just taken her beloved pet and killed it right before her very eyes.

And what eyes they were. Grey irises caught in a storm of emotion so thick he could just taste it in the warm, humid air, framed by a pale expression of heartbreak, her ruby lips parted in surprise-like she hadn't seen it a dozen times before. She wore a gold band around her neck, tight metal hugging her throat as it bobbed threateningly, her collarbone revealed by the low neckline of the satin dress she wore, blood red cloth wrapped about her waist like some possessive snake.

He blinked, trying not to stare, and saw her turn away quickly, just before she would have broken down in front of the whole court, and make her way to the balcony-one of his favorite places to think. Well that wouldn't do, intruding in one of Loki's sanctuaries. He frowned, annoyed, and followed her.

He had never seen her cry in all of the years he'd known her, and the wetness on her face betrayed her warrior's heart, that stony mask she put on for the world. Sneaking up behind her was easy, since she was too concerned with trying to make herself stop sobbing, and her slender shoulders, appearing even thinner from behind, the gaunt blades sticking out at odd angles as she leaned over the railing, shook with tremors.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Loki asked suddenly, and the girl swiveled quickly, her light eyes wide and round, the shock written in her face. Sif hadn't heard him appear, and she hurried to quell her cries so that the teenaged trickster wouldn't see her weak, but by the look in his green eyes, he'd already seen enough. She deflated, and rested her back against the bars of the balcony, worrying at her thick necklace to distract herself as she furrowed her brow, sniffling quietly.

"What is?" He pointed upward, looking behind her, and she turned to glance up at the sky, dark colors amidst the glittering backdrop of stars, all trying desperately to outshine the pale moon glowing down on her, its gentle, silvery light bathing her features and illuminating her eyes.

"I suppose," she murmured breathlessly, and he came up beside her to rest his elbows beside her own, throwing a backwards glance at the doorway behind them, where Thor could be seen, dancing with two new maidens, small slivers, peeking through the archway, of the golden prince and his entertainment, bubbling laughter ringing through the night.

"I like the moon. It's…peaceful, and it never blinds you." Sif spared him a sideways look and she caught his small smile, such a shockingly genuine gesture on the boy's notoriously teasing face. "Unlike the sun, it doesn't burn you, doesn't hurt you," he cast odd gazes at his brother between his words, and finally looked down at his thin, pale fingers, so close to hers that it made her almost nervous, "The sun is far too oblivious, anyway. The moon, on the other hand, is far too knowing, for things always happen at night." He turned to her, imploring, and she stared, confused.

"But the sun is beautiful," she defended plainly, and Loki laughed, a slow, melodious sound that shook her to the core, a sound so carefree that it surprised Sif, a sound she'd never heard from him before.

"But Sif, look above you. The moon holds an intimate, slow kind of beauty. One must damage themselves to witness the sun's beauty." Sif blinked, swallowing dryly.

"How poetic, Loki." He inclined his head, smirking, and the old Loki was back, that gleam of mirth lying lucid in his emerald stare.

"Always, Lady Sif." And he was gone, swirls of green magic in his wake, and she waved her hand to clear the air of it, frowning as she turned back to stare up at the midnight sky.

Moments later, Sif noticed that her cheeks were dry, and her eyes felt pleasantly cool as she began to smile, Thor's rambunctious laughter floating all around her, but oddly unable to get past that of her own, a new, refreshed lightness lying in her voice.

Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)