Sif Dies At The End

[02]: Humility is for Poor People

Greed and pride are cardinal sins, but a pretty face can trump any vice.

Sif knew that better than anyone, so she never felt the need to stifle down her seemingly sinful character traits. As a matter of fact, Sif never felt much of anything but pride. Carrying the blood of the dragon, she had always felt superior.

Because she was.

If she was ever asked to define perfection, she'd gesture at herself. Then, she would give the questioner a condescending look, offended that they couldn't figure out the answer by just looking at her.

Someone would even argue that the questioner needn't their eyes anymore if they couldn't see perfection whenever they saw Sif. They would deem it to be a complete waste of a seemingly functioning pair of eyes, which shouldn't even be looking at Sif in the first place.

But, said someone is not part of the story just yet.

So, back to Sif.

Being the only one to inherit the blood of the dragon in her royal family, she was always the golden child. She was raised in opulence, given riches and wealth in abundance. After all, it was natural instinct for a western dragon to hoard in grand treasures.

Additionally, as the youngest child in the family, both her royal parents and benevolent king of an older brother had spoiled her rotten. She had lived a sheltered life of extreme doting, spending and love from both her family and people.

She was a national symbol, the pride and joy of her kingdom. So, it was only natural for her people to weep as they heard the news of her departure. They protested in misery, cried in grief yet settled in regret as she tried to appease them with a tenth of her treasure.

She left behind gold and silver in her wake and knew how to get people to do her bidding, follow her rule and give her everything she's ever wanted. She was a crafty charmer with a noble bearing and an expressionless face.

In her mind, it was only natural for people to want to give her everything they had. She was a borderline narcissist, but she believed that her narcissism was justified for she was perfect after all and as a perfect person, she had the right and power to take the rare things in life that she wasn't already given.

And she took plenty.

Hundreds of chests were laid out in front of a grand castle. They were overflowing with gold and gemstones as an entourage of servants loaded them up securely in what seemed to be a giant golden saddle. The scene was grand, but what was even more imposing was the person supervising it.

Layers of sparkling embroidered silk and lace were draped on a slender yet tall body, wrapped in a large coat of white fur that scraped the floor. The number of jewels styled along with the extravagant outfit was blinding as each precious stone emitted its own dazzling light when it reflected the winter morning sun.

Although eye-catching, Sif's pale frame somehow blended perfectly with the white backdrop of the piling snow that covered the castle. Her layered necklaces dug into her skin and her bracelets gave their usual jingle as she was violently squeezed tight.

Her mother, a voluptuous redhead with a pretty face full of tears sobbed into her studded ears, "Are you really sure you want to go alone?" She grabbed Sif by the cheeks as she stared into her eyes, tears still overflowing, "How about just a couple of maids, yes?"

"I know you don't usually like company, but maybe if you get home-sick they could-"

"Draling," A man's voice interrupted "Let her be, she's old enough to make her own decisions."

"But, going alone to such a far foreign land is-" Sif was squeezed again and wanted nothing more than to escape the crushing hug, but thankfully her father caught on to her distress as he comforted his wife once more.