His hands, unusually cool against her skin, were calloused in her hold, but she was so used to the roughness that it hardly bothered her, after so many years of feeling them and pressing each finger to her lips as he slept nearby. Thor was, simply, familiar, and it was a nice thing to be, after all. His blue eyes, so very bright and deep like the ocean they'd swam in as children, were only for her, and Sif imagined that he was watching her every movement, every twitch of her lips and every sparkle renewed in her gaze.
Standing before the masses had seemed quite intimidating at first, the thought of being so exposed an intensely foreign and unwelcome concept in Sif's battle-trained mind, but once it was already happening, she thought that it wasn't so bad. Odin, standing before them with such a grand look of approval that it nearly made her blush, had just made their marriage official when Sif thought she saw Thor's eyes change colors.
Staring at him with concern for her own vision and Thor's well being, she squinted and watched as the striking blue melted into a dark forest green, a color so filled with shadows that the light was constantly shying away from it. Sif knew those eyes almost as well as she knew her fiancee's, and she felt the hands wrapped around her own morph into thin, slender ones with pale skin as cold as ice. She pulled herself from his grip with haste and stumbled away just as the broad shoulders grew smaller and the sharp angles began to replace the softly rounded ones of Thor's face. His blond locks were muddied with black, inky strands and everyone around them gasped and backed away, seeking some kind of safety.
Loki.
His smile was purely wicked, and as Sif glanced down, panicked, at the ring secured about her finger, tears sprang unbidden to her eyes.