AN: First off, a fill for a norsekink prompt of Balder [already dead] returning to comfort his misunderstood brother, Loki. I may actually expound upon this because the idea seems super interesting to me.
"Brother?" It's a cautious, familiar voice that sends shivers racing up his spine.
You're dead. Dead dead dead.
"Please, brother," the quiet voice entreated, and he could feel a shimmer light as a butterfly's kiss against his shoulder, "This is hardly like you."
You're dead.
Invisible lips brushed against his forehead, then the cold disappeared as a neutral form settled nearby. Thin, childlike fingers carded their way through his dark locks; how long was it since he'd washed? Cut his hair? It was filthy and long now.
"It's alright. I'll wait," Balder promised, "Just let me know when you're ready."