“Thor, I…” Loki began, his voice cracking and weak. His eyes remained downcast at the floor as Thor put an arm around his shoulders.
“You needn’t speak,” he said, his voice kind and gentle. His hand moved to Loki’s hair, petting him, holding him close. His soul was broken from the pain that radiated from his brother, a familiar sting of sadness stabbing behind his eyes. He felt Loki’s shoulders jerk as a sob wracked his body, and the tears fell freely down his sullen face. Thor held him tighter as Loki pressed his forehead into the god’s broad chest.
“What’s going to happen to me, brother?” he asked, biting back his emotions as best he could. Thor didn’t miss the term of endearment, and he wiped his own face with the back of his hand. He opened his mouth to answer but there were no words. There was nothing he could possibly utter to bring true comfort to the one he loved the most.
So he simply held him, his tears wetting the raven hair beneath his chin.