Summary: Loki happens upon Thor while he grieves for what has been lost in Ragnarok. The encounter doesn't exactly go as planned. Another brotherly oneshot. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still no ownership here, just borrowing.

Expressions of Grief

Loki could scarcely believe his ears.

Passing the doorway to Thor's cabin on board this massive vessel, he thought he heard the sound of muffled weeping. Was it even possible? Curious, he gently pushed the door open and peered inside. There sat his brother, the new King of Asgard, in front of a mirror with his head bowed into his hands. And yes, his proud shoulders shook in a way that spoke of genuine tears.

The God of Lies hesitated. It would be prudent (not to mention respectful) to walk away and let Thor express his grief in private. After all, he remembered his brother's anger back on Earth, and he had no desire to offer himself as a target for the Thunderer's wrath. But Loki's sense of self-preservation had obviously been skewed of late, and he found himself stepping across the threshold into the small room.

Silently he approached his weeping sibling from behind and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Brother?"

When Thor offered no response, not even a twitch, Loki softly ventured on, "I know you mourn for Father, but he would not want you to let your grief distract you from your duty."

The God of Thunder sniffled, a most undignified sound coming from him, and shook his head. He still didn't look up.

"Not Father?" prompted the Trickster. In that case, there was only one other logical explanation for Thor's distress. "Asgard was a necessary sacrifice. You could not save both the land and its people, and no amount of guilt or grief will change things now. You know that."

The muscled shoulder under his hand rose and fell in a heavy sigh. "Yes, I know. I know."

Thor's voice was rough as he finally lowered his hands to reveal tears running down the left side of his face. Only the left side. That new eye patch was going to take some getting used to.

"I hear everything you say, Brother, and I am grateful for your words. But it is none of those things now that's troubling me."

"What, then?" More concern leaked into that question than Loki had intended, surprising even himself. Had some new catastrophe occurred? Something so fresh that he hadn't even heard about it yet? "Tell me, Brother, what's happened?"

"It's just…" Thor appeared to muster his courage, then faltered.

"Yes?"

A repressed sob shook the Thunderer's mighty frame, and at last he blurted out, "Loki, my hair!"

The shock paralyzed his silver tongue for a moment. "What? Thor, are you seriously…"

But another one of those sniffles stayed his harsh words. It was all too pitiful. So he moved his hand to the back of Thor's head, feeling the shorn hairs prickle under his palm, and opted for gentle teasing instead.

"Brother mine, I didn't realize you were so vain. It's a new look for you, certainly, but not necessarily a bad one. The women on Sakaar found it agreeable enough."

The King stared blankly ahead at his reflection, pouting. "Apart from Mjollnir, this hair was my best feature. It was glorious! Loki, do you have any magic potions that will make it grow back?"

Almost unconsciously, his fingers began tracing lazy circles on Thor's scalp. "No, I do not. The best I could do is give you the illusion of hair, and for you, I think that would be even worse – a constant reminder of what you no longer have."

"Hmph. I suppose next you'll try to tell me that it will grow back."

"Well, yes, hair does tend to do that. Remember Sif's hair grew fully back after I cut it that one time."

"That was a cruel trick, Brother. Lady Sif was devastated, even if you did not see it."

"I don't recall her crying or moping half as much as you are now." This time Loki heaved a dramatic sigh of his own. "If only regrown hair could improve what you have underneath it all."

"Hey!" That finally tore Thor's distraught gaze away from the mirror, and he glared up at his sibling. "I thought you were trying to cheer me up."

"Did I not?" The Mischief-Maker put on his best innocent face. "I thought my insulting your intelligence would make you feel right at home."

Thor thought about that, then grudgingly admitted, "I suppose it is more reassuring than comfort, coming from you."

"Precisely. The latter smacks entirely too much of sentiment." But one last squeeze of his sibling's neck belied his own words, and he hastily spoke again before Thor could call him out on it. "Now, go – greet your people and let them see that you are wholly deserving of Asgard's throne, with or without your 'glorious' golden locks."

Thor nodded and stood, rubbing his tear-stained face with the back of his hand. "Thank you, Loki; your wisdom lies hidden beneath your cunning. If you stick around long enough, I may have to appoint you as my chief advisor."

"You are welcome, Brother, just…don't mention it beyond this room, or I may have to poison your next drink." It was then Loki noticed Thor staring at him with undivided attention, and he shifted in sudden discomfort. "If you expect an apology for that last bit, you will be waiting a very long time."

For the first time in their encounter, Thor grinned. "No, no, I'm too well accustomed to threats from you. But I do want to ask you, Brother: if my hair truly doesn't matter to who I am…will you cut yours to match mine? Please?"

Loki gave a disarming smile. "Oh, Thor, believe me…there is no way in Hela."