When War and Lies Collide

     The young warrioress was sharpening her sword in the arena of Asgard; where blood was shed and lives had been taken, even during a practice.  She fought every day, knowing that she had to keep up her title, the Goddess of War.  Although her realm was experiencing a time period of peace, Sif always expected danger to be lurking around the corner and knew that she must keep her soldiers prepared.

     Skillfully, she meets her opponent with a sharp clang of the blade, slicing the dummy in half.  With a thud, the upper body falls to the ground, yet a bored expression rests on the dark haired goddess'  face.  It was early in the day, about three in the morning, and none of her troops would be up for another four hours.  She had given up on trying to have a good night's rest long ago.

     Ever since the battle at Jotunheim, home of the frost giants, she had fallen ill to severe nightmares that would cause her to awake in a fit of screams.  It seems as though she had been haunted by their red eyes, the dead stare of a kingdom that had lost all honor, and replaced it with the hunger for power.  She had seen the desperate look during battle, and had killed many that were plagued by such hopelessness.  Never before had going into battle left her weak in the knees for many months.

    Many Asgardians had lost their lives that day, and those who came back needed recovery time either from physical injuries or emotional damage.  By this time, most everybody had healed from their wounds.  Sif, on the other hand, had not.  Her body was in perfect condition, not a scratch on her.  Mentally, she felt ruined.  She was tormented by her dreams, by the visions that even creeped into her thoughts during the day and distracted her from her duties.

     It was not that she felt fear of the Jotuns, Sif feared barely anything she had expirienced within her thousand year existence.  It was the sounds of their screams, their pain, their suffering.  And for some reason in which she could not point out, it had been different than all the other battles she had fought.  This one had stuck with her, almost in the form of guilt.

     Sheathing her sword and fixing her ponytail, she walks swiftly out of the arena, and into the cool breeze outside.  The sun was just starting to rise at this point, covering the land in a misty glow.  She stretches her sore muscles, pausing to admire nature's beauty.  She watched the shadows dance as the sun inched higher into the sky and into sight.  Humming, she sets off towards the Royal Dining Hall, where she had been invited for meals ever since gaining control over the army.

     She glided into her appointed seat, smiling at the other guests.  She instantly recognized her warrior friends, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg.

     "Greetings, Lady Sif."  Fandral nods with a smile, lifting his glass in acknowledgement, in which the other two follow. 

     "Hello, friends."  Sif tilts her head at them, chuckling as Volstagg generously piles his plate with food.  The warriors were at the lower end of the table, all higher class royalty sitting in the front.  There, she spotted Odin and Frigga, along with their two sons, Thor and Loki.

     The brothers were considered friends to the soldiers, although Thor carried the better social relationships.  The God of Thunder was outgoing, muscular, and often let his ego get to his head.  He seemed to be a flirt, yet not be as severe as Fandral's habit to tease.  Nonetheless, he was a show off and liked to challenge Sif's soldiers during practice in which they usually lost because a dagger is never a match for Mjolnir.

     Loki seemed to be Thor's opposite.  He had raven black hair like Sif's, but instead of a deep brown, he had a bluish green tint in his eyes.  He was more quiet, and didn't brag or talk as Thor did.  When everyone was in the arena, you could usually find him either gazing off into the distance or with his nose buried into a book.  He was skilled in hand on hand combat, but his real talent was with magic and sorcery.  There wasn't an illusion he couldn't pull off and he would often use it to his defense.  Yet, he burned with envy for his brother who so easily got all the attention he craved and who was next in line for the throne.  Loki was a person that nobody really dared to get close to.