Sif lay in bed, sheets pulled up under her chin. She was still in her nightshift despite it being lunchtime. After Loki had cut off her hair she had stopped bothering to change out night clothes. It was hardly like she was going anywhere. All of her curtains were drawn, and the jewels around the edges of the ceiling were set to the dimmest setting of light.
Her room had been thoroughly cleaned of the mess Loki had caused. A search had been done by the mages but only a trace of the curse remained. It was not enough to tell which mage had cursed her or how to undo it. Without any proof, Sif could not accuse Loki and so it appeared he would get away with it. It's not just me, he also attacked Jaro and he's going to get away with it all.
Someone knocked on the door. Sif ignored it. The door opened anyway.
"I brought milady some lunch," a servant called.
Sif didn't move.
"You should eat something," the servant tried again.
"Dismissed," Sif called.
The servant hurriedly left. As soon as the servant left Sif's quarters, she stopped and dropped her glamour, revealing that she was a he. Loki was surprised by how quickly Sif had deteriorated. Well, she is a shallow bitch with only her looks. Take that away, and her "inner beauty" is revealed. He walked down the corridor, thinking.
Slowly, Sif pushed herself out of bed and walked over to the table. The food smelled nice. She pushed it off the table and it clattered to the ground. As she turned back she saw her reflection in her mirror above her vanity.
Her lovely fair skin had paled and sunk in. There were shadows under her eyes. It had been six days since she had lost her hair. She hadn't eaten a bite or really even got out of bed. Asgardians could last months without eating but Sif was young and her body was used to having rich meals, it was starting to suffer.
Worse was her head. Every lock of her gorgeous blonde hair was gone. She remembered Eir telling her that the curse's effects were permanent.
No one even cared. All that had been done was to her hair. It was undoubtedly shameful and despicable, but it caused Sif no real injury. To go from being the fairest of Asgard to-to this… She had been all but forgotten after what Loki had done to Jaro.
All of this because of some taunt she had made to Loki. So what if she called him a runt? He certainly was one, so tiny and weak. He was irritating. Such a brat, and for him to hold a blade at her fair throat... Odin ought to just get rid of him and focus on Thor.
Trembling, she was surprised again when someone else knocked. This time it was Jonelle. The rest of Sif's pack of girls was absent. Jonelle apprised Sif as the girls often did servants who tried dressing up in stolen clothes.
"Jonelle," Sif greeted. "I am not in the best of shape for visitors."
"No," Jonelle wrinkled her nose at Sif's appearance. "That you are not."
Sif leaned back a bit, surprised by the comment. Of course, Sif's girls always acted like that but suddenly Sif was on the receiving end.
Jonelle held her hands in front of her, fingers interlinked. Her head was high and haughty.
"Perhaps you should return later," Sif ordered.
"Maybe not," Jonelle delicately brushed her blonde hair over her shoulder with a hand. "You clearly seem to have a fool made of yourself. Whether it was the prince or not, I think that you were quite an idiot to try him. What do you expect me to do?" She asked at the look on Sif's face. "Sit down and let you cry on my shoulder, old friend?" She sneered, "Hardly."
Sif stared.
"You are not worth it." Jonelle shrugged nonchalantly. "Although I suggest you stay away from my girls and out court, Lady Sif," she mocked.
No, Sif thought. You and Lyessa and Sefa, you are my girls and it is my court!
Jonelle turned and walked out, not at all upset.
Sif looked like she was going to cry. No, no, no, no! She grabbed the tray of her food and threw it against the wall. Then she slammed her hands against the table. That achieved no effect but to send darts of pain shooting up her arms, but she welcomed the sensation. The pain gave her a focusing point, and let her pick out the reason her life in court was ruined. Loki, this is all Loki's fault!
Hands trembling with hate, she sat looked over at her vanity and saw her hairbrush. Taking quick, sharp strides, she snatched up her jeweled hairbrush. Sif ran her finger across the hundreds of soft bristles and across the handle. Then she threw the brush furiously at the mirror, shattering it. Pieces fell to the table and ground. The cracked shards that did not fall reflected her anger. She'd get Loki back for this. She'd see him dead.
Even if she had to learn to fight and do it herself. Fight, yeah, that's what she'd do. She'd learn to fight.
So started their feud, one that never ended.
Loki got away with it. They can't tie him to Sif. Sif has been hiding in her room and so doesn't know that Loki is not quite "getting away" with everything. Now that Sif has a taste of her own medicine from Jonelle, you'd think she'd be a little more humble but not Sif. She's ready to fight back. This is why Sif and Loki don't get along, but she's not done yet.