Sorrow's Pain Extras Chapter 15: Because of Words, a thor fanfic

Loki tried to keep those raging thoughts from reaching him, but it failed. The biting grief that filled his chest was overwhelming. And, for some reason, when he saw Sorrow he could only think of his mother's ethereal body as it was lifted into the sky, stars cast into the heavens.

Why? Why did he feel as though his wife was somehow at fault?

Loki sat in his study, staring into a nothingness that seemed to sooth his mind, pretending that his mother hadn't been viciously murdered by a Dark Elf trying to get his hands on Thor's puny wife.

And while she was being run through with a sword, he had been with Sorrow, making sure she was safe before he ran off to aid Thor.

If she hadn't been such a distraction, his mother might still be alive. He could have saved her.
Loki picked up the glass of water from his desk and threw it as hard as he could at the nearest wall, the glass shattering, water flying through the air, all over his papers, smearing the ink.

Sorrow heard the glass shatter, getting to Loki's study quickly to see what had happened. She hadn't seen him since the funeral had ended hours ago because he had locked himself in the room.

When Loki turned around, the rage in his eyes shone brighter than she had ever seen. Her deep blue eyes shifted to the shattered glass on the floor by the wall, something that obviously wasn't an accident.

Sorrow sighed, taking a few steps towards Loki before he said a few angry words under his breath through gritted teeth.

"What?" She asked cautiously.

Loki didn't look at her as he said it Again. "Get. Out." He said, his voice raw with anger and hurt.

"Loki, please. Don't shut me out."

"Get out." Loki hissed.

Sorrow tried to meet his gaze, but he refused to look at her. "Loki-"

"OUT!" Loki snarled.
Sorrow's hands curled into loose fists. "So, what? Are you going to lock yourself in here for weeks and blame yourself for Frigga's death?"

"I do not blame myself."

"Then who do you blame? Thor? Jane? Odin? Who is it this time?!"

Loki's gaze finally pierced hers. "If you had not distracted me, I would have gotten to her in time."

Sorrow's mouth parted slightly in shock. "That's not fair and you know it."
"Leave. Me. Be. I do not wish to see you." Loki's words dripped with venom.

"That is not fair! You cannot blame me for this!"

Loki turned his back to her, his dented armor and black hair the only thing she could see. He didn't say a word from then on.

"Loki! Look at me!"

Nothing.

Sorrow turned sharply away from him, tears stinging her eyes. She stormed out, hearing the door slam behind her, the lock clicking, echoing like a war drum through the room.

Days later, Loki was still in his study.

Sorrow worried. She heard nothing, never saw him come out for food. It was almost as though he wasn't even there. But she could feel the hurt, like weights in the air, the air that she breathed, going into her heart and lungs, throughout her body. She could only breathe in hurt and rage.

She took a deep breath, wrapping her hand around the door knob and trying it, already knowing that it was locked. She knocked quietly on the door, hearing nothing but silence. "Loki?" She asked.

Nothing.

She sighed. "Loki, please come out. You need to eat something."

Still, silence.

"Please." She whispered. "Everyone worries. Thor, Jane, Sif, the Warriors three. They all worry. I... I worry." Her voice caught in her throat, any further words refusing to come as tears ran down her pale face.

She cupped her hands over her eyes, her breath leaving her as she slowly collapsed to her knees. She didn't breathe until her lungs started to burn. She sucked in a breath and started to sob. She rocked back and forth, letting all her anguish into the air, yet she did not make a sound.

Her blue eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep, heavy circles confessing that she hadn't slept in days. Sorrow stayed there, in front of Loki's door, for two weeks, not eating or sleeping. She would knock on his door every few hours, pleading with him to come out and talk to her, but she never got a reply. Yet she could feel that anger radiating from the room, the intense rage. Every now and then she heard him throw something, and it would shatter against the wall.

Every time she heard glass shatter, it took her back to that night, when she hid in a closet after being dishonored by Brandt. She had broken a glass jar, as well as the necklace Loki had given her.

After nine more days of sitting in front of his door, her stomach burning with hunger, her head pounding with weakness as she hadn't slept more than a minute, she finally stood up, knocking on the door one last time. "Loki?" She whispered, her voice cracking with misuse. "Loki… I cannot do this anymore. It's been nearly two weeks… please… please come out. Talk to me."

She heard nothing.

"Please."

Her heart deflated, then. It seemed as if the world collapsed in on her. She knew why Loki still wouldn't come out. More than three weeks ago, he had told her to leave. To get out. And now, she had been defeated. He wanted her gone. He wanted her to pack up and go, if not for a little while. Or, at least, that thought filled her mind and convinced her of its truth.

She knew it was rude to go to her mother's house without writing first, but Elysa always felt as though she owed her daughter for the years they had lost. So, Sorrow prayed Elysa was home and started to pack a bag. She got the bag out, setting it on the bed and glancing around the room. Nothing caught her attention. Nothing that she needed. Everything she owned Loki had provided. She could not bring herself to take anything that was his.

So, she changed into some clothes Elysa had given her months ago during a shopping trip and made sure that nothing she had with her was Loki's. She packed the rest of Elysa's gifted clothing into the bag and closed it, not finding anything else. Her footsteps were heavy as she approached the door, but her finger seemed to burn as she started walking through it.

She looked down at her hand, realizing she was wearing her wedding ring. Loki had given it to her. He had knelt on one knee and gazed into her eyes, taking her hand as her heart had pounded furiously, just as it did now. But her heart pounded with heaviness, not happiness.

She slid the ring off her finger with a little effort, as she hadn't taken it off in the two years they had been married. She gazed at the simple gold band, with a single diamond in the center, runes etched on the inside of the ring. It was her promise to stay with Loki, to never leave him. To stand with him in times of sickness and health and all manner of affliction.

But, she realized as tears sprung into her eyes, she couldn't keep that promise if the match to her ring didn't want to see her face again.

She set her bags on the floor, taking shaky steps back into the room and placing the wedding ring on the floor in front of Loki's locked office door. It gleamed, a sparkle in the pure diamond, as a tiny ray of sunlight hit it. It seemed to her as if it shone a little more dimly than it did before.

And with tears pouring from her eyes, shaking hands, and a pain in her hollow chest, she clicked the door to their chambers closed, picking up her lightly packed bag, and left, a weary traveler once more.

She arrived at Elysa's house well past midnight. The bumpy carriage ride had been enough to keep her awake, and she had stared at the passing scenery, all emotion leaving her gaze. She did what she had always done best and locked herself up, just as she had when she was a slave. It was harder this time, but she still managed it.

It was a strange thing, really, how one could master the ability to defy their instinct, to bury their heart deep inside their cage of bones and clear their mind of all sorrow.

The carriage came to a halt, rain pattering lightly outside. The couchman jumped down from his perch, the rain dripping off his black cloak. He opened her door, lowering the metal steps that descended to the ground. He held out his hand, Sorrow taking it as he helped her down.

She felt weak. She felt frail, as she had when she had been a slave. She hadn't eaten or slept in over three weeks, and if she had, she didn't remember doing so. She tripped on the last step, stumbling as her foot caught on metal and she fell into the arms of the coachman, who caught her and helped her back on her feet, asking her if she was alright.

Sorrow assured the man that she was, and he went to grab her bag.

Sorrow walked up to the large, wooden doors to Elysa's house. There were no candles flickering in the windows, so everyone must have been asleep. The coachman was right behind her with her bag, and he opened the door, a concerned look on his face as Sorrow stared up at the windows, not moving, spacing out.

"This way, my lady." He said kindly, gesturing to the now open door, a servant having let them in.

Sorrow shook her head. "Of course."

She stepped into the warm, richly decorated parlor. It smelled of oranges, and a candle now flickered, the small maid holding it. "My lady, should I wake the Lady Elysa?"

Sorrow shook her head. "No. You can go back to rest. I can find my own way to my rooms, and my mother doesn't need to be woken up at such a late time." Sorrow took her bag from the coachman, who bowed, wishing her health, before he turned around and left.

Sorrow wandered up the stairs, turning through halls and corridors until she got to the very back, most far end room in the entire estate. The room that had been hers since she was a baby. Far away from Elysa's.

She opened the room, dust filling her lungs as the door merely swinging open stirred up the irritating particles. She hadn't slept here for ten years now, and Elysa hadn't touched anything. She wandered farther into the room, set her bag on the floor, pulled the dust sheet off her bed, which smelled a little stale but was clean and made, and collapsed into the lavender sheets, falling asleep for the first time in a while, the last thing that graced her mind being Loki's rage-filled eyes.

Loki didn't know how long it had been until Sorrow's pleas finally stopped. Each day, he had sat in his tall chair, his arms folded across his chest as he listened to her soft voice, which grew more cracked and strained over time, until is was there were no more. In a way, it had been a comfort, the constant pleading for him to talk to her, to come out of his prison, his isolating, his one comfort.

But, nothing could stop his now-set mind, which only replayed the death of his mother, and the few moments before and after.

Running to his chambers to see if Sorrow was alright because he heard her scream. He had burst through the doors, his frantic eyes catching the figure that laid on the floor, hands over her ears.

The blast had been fairly close to the room, having shaken the floor.

Tears ran down her face, her body petrified from the loud boom.

He had run to her, touching her arm and speaking to her until she finally looked up at him, her gaze distant and confused. Outside, their were more explosions, more shaking.

He picked her up, as she was too shocked to do anything, and run to the closet, opening it, and pulling a lever that lead to a secret study. Stairs dropped down, and he ran down into the darkness, lighting a torch with his magic and setting her on a large, fur-covered chair. He lit several more candles and torches with his magic until the whole room was lit up.

She was shaking, still frozen from the explosion that had gone off not ten feet from her.

He had kissed her on the cheek, telling her that everything would be alright, and that he would be right back, that she would be safe. To stay put and be quiet.

Then, he had run back up the stairs, pulling the lever and sealing her in, and rushed back out to look for Thor, only to end up on his way to Frigga's chambers, where she was slaughtered in front of him.

Loki shook his head, the vivid memory draining away as the silence once more ebbed at his conscience.

He had waited for a long time, listening for her sitting outside his door, but he heard none. Still, he refused to go out there. He could not bare to look into her sea blue eyes and feel that burning rage once more.

He knew he wasn't being fair, that Frigga's death wasn't her fault. It was his. And yet, she had been a distraction. She would have been perfectly fine if he had simply left her in his chambers.

He still saw his mother, a knife sliding up and through her heart as a massive brute held her regal, and then limp, body in its hands, letting her fall to the floor with a heavy thud, her swords clattering beside her.

He could have saved her.

Finally, after what he guessed had been weeks, perhaps even longer than a month, he was compelled to find food. He unlocked the door, having not heard Sorrow's voice for a long time. But he was still expecting her to be there, to beg him for forgiveness as she had a hundred times over.

But she wasn't.

When he opened the heavy door, the world outside was completely still, and completely empty of life.

He peered out into their chambers, realizing it had been cleaned over and over, until even the stone shone with polish, a habit Sorrow gave in to whenever she was stressed. But, by the looks of the thin layer of dust on the polished everything, she hadn't been there for a while.

This made an uneasy feeling creep into his chest. He finally took a step outside, only to feel something underfoot. He glanced down, his gaze focusing on the small ring that laid on the floor, now at his feet. Sorrow's ring. Her wedding ring. He slowly bent down and picked it up, feeling for once the biting cold on the metal surface.

His heart twisted, knowing that he had done this, that he had pushed her away. But Frigga once more flashed in his mind.

Frigga was dead.

Loki collapsed to his knees, confusion riddling his mind and turning his heart inside and out. He felt the sting of Frigga's death once more. Yet, this time, there was something else. A sickening dread that came with the ring. A promise that he had broken. Sorrow had left it as a reminder of what they'd had, he was sure of it.

He knew she had most likely fled to her mother's house, and yet he could not bring himself to go after her just yet. A little piece of his pride still blamed her for everything that had happened.

So, he clutched her wedding ring tightly in his hand before putting it in his pocket, and then went to find something to eat.

Sorrow was outside, under an umbrella Thor had given her as a souvenir from Midgard.

It was still raining, it being fall, the orange and gold leaves tumbling off of their branches and splashing to the ground, heavy with water. The sky was a dull grey, the soul-sucking grey that ebbs at your mind, numbing it. The breeze blew a chill past her, and she shivered inside her thin coat.

"You'll catch cold." Sorrow heard a familiar voice.

She mustered her best smile, and turned to see Janine, her red hair still resting in two braids, one on each shoulder. Light freckles sprinkled her nose and cheeks heavily, and her pale green eyes shone with joy. "Janine. I haven't seen you in at least a year." Sorrow said, her energy still flatlining.

Janine's previous smile drained away. "Are you well, Sorrow?"

Sorrow shifted uncomfortably, trying hard to keep her emotions locked up. "Of course. Why would I not be?'

Janine sat down on the wet wooden bench next to her, taking Sorrow's hand. "You look like you just woke up from the dead. When was the last time you slept, or ate for that matter? Norns, you look like you just came from Helheim."

Sorrow rubbed her eye, covering it with her hand. "I'm just a little… stressed. That's all."

Janine's eyebrows drew together. "Is it Brandt?"

That name sent a cold shiver down Sorrow's spine. "No. It is nothing. Really. I am well."

Janine shook her head. "It's Loki again, isn't it?"

Sorrow's gaze fell to the ground, and she watched as tiny raindrops hit a puddle.

"What happened?" Janine asked, concern laced through her very aura.

Sorrow could not bring herself to speak of him. It had been nearly four months since she had left, and he had not visited her once. There was little part of her that thought maybe he didn't know where she was, but the rest of her knew he was avoiding her.

She was expecting to receive word any day now that Loki had gone to the Allfather and absolved their marriage vows.

Janine's eyes grew wide. "You aren't wearing your wedding ring." She touched her fingertips to her mouth, letting go of Sorrow's hand. "Oh Sorrow…" Tears gathered in Janine's eyes. "Why did you not tell me?"

Sorrow shook her head. "It is not official yet. I don't know what he wants to do. I haven't spoken to him in months."

Janine firmly gripped Sorrow's hand once more. "You do not have to tell me if you don't want to, Sorrow. I apologize for forcing you."

Sorrow felt her heart start to swell with pain. She had kept herself locked up like this for too long. She didn't know how she had been able to function as a slave, not feeling anything, not shedding tears, not caring.

That wasn't her anymore. She could not take the brunt force of this caged feeling anymore.

She was quiet for a moment before those sour words slipped from her mouth. "He blames me for the death of his mother."

Janine choked on the air she was breathing. "What?!"

Sorrow twirled the umbrella she held in her hand, the water flying in different directions as the rain continued to patter against the material. "We had a little argument. He locked himself in his study for three weeks. I sat there. I plead. I cried. I begged. He told me to leave. And beyond that, he refused to come out."

Janine wrapped her arms around Sorrow's shoulders, squeezing tightly. "I'm so sorry."

After an hour more of talking, Sorrow and Janine got up and walked into the house as the rain started pouring from the sky, lightning cracking in the ominous clouds and making so much noise Sorrow could barely hear.

Janine hugged Sorrow one last time before she had to leave, not wanting to get caught in the storm. She had moved on to a better job in a different estate clear across the city, and she had to work in the morning.

Sorrow smiled faintly through the window and waved at Janine as the maid climbed into a cheap coach and was pulled away.

Sorrow suddenly felt very sick.

Her head continued to pound with a headache, as it had for the past month. Her hands trembled every time she thought about her estranged husband, who had forced her away just as her mother had. It was something she was becoming used to. Leaving. Being thrown into the hands of Fate. She felt as she had all those years Elysa had shoved her into the arms of a slaver. Loki had shoved her into the arms of despair.

She felt weak. She climbed the stairs and headed back to her room, laid down on her bed, and didn't get back up.

It had been five months.

Loki found that Sorrow had taken almost nothing. Nothing that he had ever given to her. She had left everything behind, and that only made him think that she didn't want anything to do with him. She must have been furious. She had probably stormed out of their chambers with the intent of never coming back.

And so, he had held off finding her for fear of her wrath.

Sorrow had never been one to get angry easily, but when she did, he was better off in Helheim.

Visions of his Mother's death still riddled his mind, but now they did not sting as much. They only left a hollow feeling in his heart, a reminder that she truly was gone.

He had started going to counsel meetings with Thor a few weeks ago, and his brother had asked where Sorrow was, because she hadn't been seen in awhile.

Loki had said she had gone to visit her mother, having been shaken up by the death of Frigga and wanting to spend some time with Elysa.

This only made bitterness fill his heart once more.

Sorrow still had a mother.

He had begun to sink so far into himself that he could not tell himself the truth any longer, until one day, he had woken up with a strange feeling in his chest.

A feeling that something was wrong. Wrong with Sorrow. Somehow, somewhere, she was in trouble.

And so, Loki had sighed, rubbing the dark circles under his eyes from restless nights, and climbed out of bed, Sorrow's side still untouched.

He decided it was time to visit her.

When he arrived at the Lady Elysa's house, it was evening, the sun barely set.

He had ridden his horse, which was faster than a carriage and easier for him to manage. A servant took his horse to the stables and Loki waited out on the doorstep, trying to gain the courage to knock.

He wondered if Sorrow would be there when he walked in, if she would look at him with the same rage he had shown her months ago.

He held her wedding ring in his hand, and he turned it over several times, feeling the smooth surface, the runes engraved on the inside. He looked at it, wondering if she would take it back, if she would forgive him as she always had, because he had always caused her hurt and pain.

He finally knocked on the solid door, a servant opening it and immediately bowing. "My Prince, what may I do for you?"

Loki sometimes forgot his title as prince, always having lived in the castle where the people weren't nearly so frantic when seeing royalty. "May I come in?" Before he had met Sorrow, he would have regarded a maid with little tolerance, a servant impatience, and a slave with disgust. But he now only felt respect for those who worked so hard to sustain themselves and help others.

The servant curtsied and opened the door all the way, and Loki stepped into the house. Any of the servants who saw him immediately bowed as well, and one even ran out of the room to inform the Lady Elysa of the Prince's arrival.

Loki stood there awkwardly for no more than a minute before Elysa glided into the room, her form still very similar to Sorrow's, her brown eyes focusing on the Prince with the tiniest bit of unease. She curtsied, and Loki took her hand, kissing it lightly before she offered him a seat and some drinks.

Loki declined, not wanting to waste any time.

"What may I do for you, Prince Loki?" Elysa asked.

"I believe you know why I am here."

Elysa sighed, wringing her hands nervously. "Sorrow?"

Loki nodded. "Could you please tell her I am here? Maybe ask her to come talk to me?"

Elysa's eyes shifted to the side. "I… I am sorry. Sorrow has taken ill for at least a month now. She can barely sit up, much less leave her bed. She is most likely asleep right now, but you may go up to her if you wish."

Loki's heart beat fast. He knew she made herself sick whenever something bad happened between the two of them. He hadn't even been thinking about that. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, and worried herself until she became sick.

He sighed, knowing that he was most likely the cruelest husband she could ask for, though they rarely fought.

He was lead up the stairs by the same servant that had greeted him at the door. She led him through hall after hall, turning this way and that, past corridor after corridor until they had reached the farthest bedroom in the entire house.

Loki had never seen Sorrow's childhood bedroom, nor had he been inside, but he knew why it was so far away. Elysa's bedroom was probably on the other side of the estate.

The servant knocked opened the door slowly, and Loki stepped into a lavender colored room, with white walls and lavender furniture. There was a window seat, with heavy curtains that blocked any light from entering outside. There was a single candle on the night stand, and it flickered as a breeze from the hallway intruded into the cold room.

There was a maid at Sorrow's bedside, Loki knowing her immediately as Janine, who was reading a book. She looked back at them, a glare settling over her features as she looked at Loki, fury in her green eyes.

She had never been afraid of the Prince of Asgard.

The servant escorting Loki left the room, the door closing behind him.

Janine stood up, marching over to him. "You better make it up to her." She spat in a whisper before leaving the room.

Loki sighed, knowing this scene was all too familiar. Sorrow sick in bed, heavy with a fever, a washcloth over her forehead to keep her cool. He took slow steps over to her bed, not knowing how to begin apologizing.

Her eyes were open, glazed over with the fever, but they somehow managed to light up when she saw him.

This made Loki's mind wrack with guilt.

He sat at her bedside, watching as he eyes slowly followed him. She shifted a little under her covers, and her sea blue eyes began to shine with tears.

"Sorrow…" Loki whispered her name. "I… I know not where to begin apologizing..." It was silent for another moment. "I was wrong, Sorrow. I was wrong to blame you for something so both your control and min

e. If anything, it was mine own fault. I come to beg your foregiveness. I know I have hurt you. You, a Goddess. You, who are patient, loving, and kind... all the things that I am not. And now you see the monster I am, because I dare lay such blame on you." "I dare hurt you. I dare drag myself into your presence after such things I have said. You, who has the purest heart in all the nine realms."

"And I, I am a selfish, terrible man. I hurt you. I hurt you, and I am sorry. But words... words... I have so many words." Loki scoffed at himself. "So many words that I could never put together to express how truly, how deeply, I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry, My Queen, My Goddess. My Sorrow."

Sorrow's eyes closed and she turned away from him, her shoulders shaking with silent cries as she wept. "I need time." Her voice cracked.

"I love you, Sorrow." He whispered. He knew that he should leave, then. He should give her space. Though he did not want to, he knew she needed time alone. He felt her wedding ring heavy in his pocket, but he kept it. He stood up, his heart pounding as he walked over to her door.

He did not know when he would see her next.

Sorrow ran those words through her head. His apology. She knew he was sincere, and yet, she could only lay in her bed and weep.

Her heart was beating with the pressure of pain, her chest tightening. There had been desperation in his voice. An anger at himself. He had said her name with reverence.

But she still didn't know if she could go back. If she could do this every time he decided to push her away. Before, she had waited like a dog at his doorstep, pleading and yapping for him to open the door. But now, she felt like the dog that ran away from home.

Either way, she felt like a dog.

A sick, wounded, lost dog.

Hello readers! Thank you for taking the time to read this, I've been working on it all week. I know I left it on kind of a cliffhanger, but I felt like the story had been told. I may write the ending to this in the future, but it's unlikely. I wanted to explore a different side to both of them. Sorrow's hesitance to go back and Loki's pride, which really isn't new, but I feel as though I've never written anything in their relationship that showed such a low point. In Sorrow's Pain, they always sort of get along, and there is instant forgiveness after a fight... but that's not really how it is. Words don't cure everything, and Loki is beginning to learn that even though Sorrow has always forgiven him, and always will by the way, some wounds are deeper than others, and take longer to heal.