Hello again! Here's the second installment of this fic. If you enjoyed, please leave a comment below!

Day Two

Thor woke to the gentle hum of the ship's engine. For a moment the sound was strange and alien and he didn't know where he was; then he saw, out of the corner of his eye, his black-haired brother fast asleep on the couch. Loki's hands were folded and resting on his stomach, slender fingers laced. His eyes were closed and his breathing was soft and even. Asleep, he looked much younger than he did while awake— the lines on his face were less pronounced and the bitterness that so often took over his features wasn't present. Thor sat up slowly, trying not to disturb his brother. He watched Loki for a moment. His brother's features were relaxed. Thor didn't know the last time he had seen Loki look that calm. Of course, he hadn't seen Loki in five years before yesterday, but Thor's memories of Loki's later childhood were colored with the image of selfish, arrogant Loki, determined to prove that he was capable.

Thor is crouched on the ground, trying to be quiet. The snake is coiled in the ground before him. Thor has a stick in one hand. Loki squats next to him, his brilliant green eyes wide.

"What do we do?" Loki whispers, in his high, little-boy voice.

"We have to wait for it to move," Thor whispers back. He pushes back messy blonde hair with one calloused hand. Despite the brother's youth, the two are patient, waiting for the serpent to shift its position. Thor's eyes are fixated on the beast; Loki is less interested in the snake, and more interested in watching his ten-year-old brother. Thor frowns in concentration.

"When it moves, I'll hit it with the stick," Thor murmurs. Loki nods, caught up in the dramatic scene, scarcely daring to breathe.

A few minutes pass and Thor's patience runs out. "I'm going to poke it," he hisses to Loki.

"No!" Loki responds vehemently (if softly). "You said to wait!"

Thor turns his head slightly to grin at his younger brother. Then he pulls his hand back— carefully— and strikes.

The serpent— which is easily three-quarters of Loki's size— rears up, fanning out its hood. It looks even bigger than it is, now. Loki screams, stumbling backward. Thor jumps in front of him, jabbing the stick fruitlessly at the snake's armored stomach.

"Get back!" Thor yells, though to whom is uncertain, throwing out one arm. Loki casts around wildly for something— anything— to use as a weapon. He can see nothing.

The serpent's tail slams into Loki's legs, knocking him flat. Loki rolls desperately as the beasts rears and hisses, its tongue flashing in and out, its beady blakc eyes glittering with malice and fury.

"Loki!" Thor cries. "Stay there!" Thor takes a flying leap and lands on top of the snake. It immediately twists and tries to bite him, but Thor ducks and spins away. Loki attempts to drag himself away, but his legs— which have lost feeling— are dead weight.

Thor grimaces and stabs at the creature's stomach. It does nothing; the stick bounces harmlessly off. But Thor has distracted its attention away from Loki, and that was his goal. Sweat shimmers on Thor's upper lip and brow. The snake strikes, and Thor just barely manages to dance out of the way.

Chink!

Loki is throwing stones.

The serpent turns back to Loki, then sways toward Thor again, then, as Loki tosses another rock, back to Thor's black-haired brother. This is all Thor needs. He rushes up behind it and catches it, just behind the head; anywhere else and it is too large for Thor's small hands to grasp. Keeping a tight grip on the snake with his elbow, Thor reaches for his branch and impales the snake through its mouth, into its throat.

The creature hisses in agony, then, after a moment, falls still. Blood pours out of its mouth, drenching Thor's forearms.

Thor pulls away and immediately sprints over to his brother, who is lying in a heap, shaking. "Loki," he murmurs, trying to roll him over. "Brother, look at me." Gently, Thor pushes his brother onto his side.

"Thor," Loki sobs. He is trembling.

Thor can see the beginning of several nasty bruises on Loki's legs, but otherwise he seems unharmed; he is mostly shaken by the event. Loki's weeping grows louder, and Thor pulls him close.

"It's okay," Thor whispers. "Loki, it's all right. It's dead now."

Loki is sobbing uncontrollably now; the fear that he or his brother would be killed mixed with the pain in his legs is too much for a six-year-old. He cries and cries, holding onto Thor as if he plans to never let go. Thor wraps his arms around his younger brother and Loki goes limp in his brother's arms. Thor holds him for a while, then releases him and pulls him to his feet.

"Time to go," Thor says, not unkindly, and he puts his arm around Loki to help him hobble back to the palace.

Thor pulled himself out of his musings and wandered into the kitchen. It was not very large; in fact, it was barely big enough to fit him and his brother. He opened several cabinets and was disappointed to find only dried food, but it looked as though it would be enough to last the two of them for quite a while.

He heard Loki enter the room behind him. "I checked our rations yesterday," Loki said. His voice sounded slightly hoarse. Thor had heard that sound before, when Loki used to have nightmares as a small child and would make up screaming until his throat was dry and scratchy, and then Thor would let him into his bed and then Loki would fall asleep. Thor missed those days, when he was able to fix Loki's troubles. He couldn't do that anymore; now, Loki's wounds were too deep.

That thought hit him harder than Thor had expected, and all of a sudden he remembered Heimdall, lying on the ground, tawny-golden eyes glassy. The image of Heimdall's finely drawn face, looking so familiar and yet so very, very cold and alien because the light behind his eyes had been extinguished, was fresh in Thor's mind— as if it had been branded there. Heimdall was dead. It had been five years and still, Thor couldn't remember that day without a crushing feeling in his chest; Heimdall was dead, and Thor had been there, and had watched it happen.

And old— five-year-old— bitterness rose in Thor's throat.

"Thor?" Loki asked.

Thor forced his hands to unclench.

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?" The question burst out before Loki could stop it, because of course Thor was all right— he was Thor— he was the god of thunder— he was the greatest warrior in the galaxy— not once in his life had he ever been beaten and not stood up again.

But Thor never had a chance to respond to tell Loki that he was all right or otherwise, because the ship suddenly gave an enormous lurch. All at one, the ship's alarms began to sound, filling the room with a heart-stopping cacophony. Thor locked eyes with his brother. In Loki's green eyes, Thor saw fear, apprehension, desperation— but when Loki looked, in turn, at his older brother, all he saw there was that same deep, bitter sorrow.

Loki was unable to dwell on that, though, because the ship's console was showing that they were being boarded.

"Do you have a weapon?" Thor shouted, already moving to grab his own, his body tensed.

Loki's staff materialized in his hands. "Yes," he shouted back. "How many are there?"

"I don't know!" Thor called over his shoulder as he went to find his own weapon. Thor had lost his hammer to Captain America and Strombreaker was destroyed in the final battle with Thanos. He had taken a Valhallan broadsword, but it was too small for him and not nearly as deadly as Mjolnir or Strombreaker.

Loki hurried over the console. He did a quick head count— though the pirates were moving, so it was difficult to tell— and found that there were at least eight members of the boarding party. And probably more on their ship, he reflected.

Thor returned with his broadsword and stood back-to-back with Loki. Neither brother felt the need to speak. Interaction with each other they were, perhaps, a bit rusty on; but battle? This was something familiar. Loki had stood exactly like this many times before. It felt right; it felt natural.

Similar thoughts were running through Thor's mind. How many times had he, in battle, trusted his brother to protect his back while he pressed forward into the enemy? Combat was something that both brothers felt at home in.

The pirates made their entrance then. They were using weapons somewhat similar to Loki's staff; they were large and metal, with blades of bright, glowing orange. Thor stepped forward and immediately began to trade blows with one. He was tall, taller than Thor, even, and had long, messy dark hair. Thor blocked a side cut and decided to try something simple, first. He stepped forward into a straight thrust, which the pirate deflected. The pirate came back with two side cuts in quick succession; Thor parried both, then swung in a downward arc. Rather than attempting to block, the pirate dodged and danced away. Thor followed him with a series of jabs, all of which were dodged or parried, and all the while taking Thor farther from his starting point in the center of the bridge.

Thor heard an almighty crashing noise behind him and realized in a moment what was happening. He whirled around and found the navicomputer's screen cracked and its light powered off. Loki was apparently realizing the same thing; he dove toward one of the pirates who was near the controls and tackled him. He rolled back to his feet and engaged Loki.

Thor lunged forward, trying to shove the pirates away from the bridge. He advanced on one of them, pushing him back steadily with well-placed blows— even though the broadsword could do a tiny fraction of what Mjolnir or Stormbreaker could.

"There's nothing here!" one of the pirates shouted. "Nothing— this place is a piece of garbage."

Two of the pirates were fighting Loki, and as quick as Loki was, they were quicker. His staff was torn out of his grasp by one and the other bowled into him, knocking him over. Loki tried to get to his feet but was too slow; he was bound at his hands and ankles.

As this was happening Thor, too, was fighting off several pirates at once. At one point in his life he would have been able to handle two or three pirates, even with only a broadsword and in such a cramped space, but he wasn't in the best physical form. Too slow to catch all of the pirates— even if he was strong enough— Thor took a hit to his leg and fell.

Loki's green eyes grew wide.

Four or five of the pirates jumped on Thor to keep him from rising again and bound him at his hands and ankles, the same way that they had bound Loki. He struggled valiantly, but he was already on the ground and overpowered by the pirates. Thor laid there, panting, fury in his eyes.

One of the pirates, who Thor assumed was the leader due to the way his crewmates deferred to him, sauntered forward. "Nothing," he repeated.

"Nothing," another one confirmed.

The leader heaved a sigh.

"We have to get something out of this trip," one of the pirates argued, leaning on his sword. "This would have been a waste of time otherwise."

"I know," the leader said, and paused, seemingly considering something.

At that moment— despite the intense fury that Loki felt toward the criminals— the leader of the bandits looked human. His face was tired. Then Loki looked at his brother, and Thor was visibly shaking with the effort of trying to break free from his bonds. Loki— looking at the ties on him— guessed that Thor most likely could, and he knew that if Thor did he would probably injure or kill himself trying to attack the bandits.

He caught his older brother's eyes, which were starting to glow dangerously, and then— very slightly— shook his head.

"What are we going to do?" another one of the bandits asked.

The pirate leader sighed again, then nodded at Loki. "Take that one. Don't bother with the other."

Loki twitched. Thor strained against his bonds.

Several of the pirates stepped forward and grabbed Loki by his arms and legs.

"No!" Thor shouted, in his enormous voice. He struggled valiantly against the rope that held him, but to no avail.

"Cut the fuel lines," the leader ordered crisply. "Leave the big one to die." The bandits moved to follow his instructions.

Loki's breathing came quick and sharp, and his muscles were tense; he didn't bother to struggle, though, because he knew that he would not be able to break free. He was vaguely aware of Thor yelling behind him, but since Thor hadn't broken out of his bonds yet, Loki guessed that he probably wouldn't be able to before he was taken off of their ship.

It was then that the terror truly began to settle in, and Loki flexed his fingers. I can't die like this, he thought. I can't. After all I've survived? Loki started to panic and struggle.

The last Thor saw of his brother was that image, of Loki's body quivering with tension and his brilliant green eyes filled with fear and his expression pained and haunted, and then they were gone.

Thor rolled over onto his side. He was struggling with all of his might against the bonds, but they held firm. "Loki!" he cried. "Loki!" He knew his brother couldn't hear him. Thor's breathing was heavy and ragged. Memories were beginning to crowd Thor's mind; Loki, his long, black hair streaming out, holding onto Thor's staff with one slender hand, yelling at their father: Loki, fury in his eyes, fighting the dark elves like a whirlwind of green and silver; Loki, struggling in Thanos's grasp, his eyes watering and his voice choked.

Thor yelled a wordless cry, straining against the rope, for he knew how all three of those memories ended. He struggled and felt the rope beginning to give. Get up, Odinson, he thought fiercely. You can't afford to go to pieces now. Get up.

Loki, falling into a great, dark abyss; Loki, lying on the ground, a gaping wound in his chest, whispering to Thor; Loki, eyes glassy, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

Get up! The one time you have a chance to save him instead of watching him die again and you can't even get out of these ropes— do something— anything— he's going to die again and then there will be one more person on the list that you failed to save— what the hell are you doing, Odinson? Do you want him to die?

Tears were prickling the back of his throat.

Do you want him to die?

Thor's bonds snapped.

Loki fought valiantly as they dragged him onto the ship. When they reached the bridge, he lashed out with all of the force he could muster at their controls, hoping to buy himself some time. He was screaming words at them, but they meant nothing; Loki was trying to damage their ship as much as he could. Granted, this was rather limited, as he was tied up and being dragged, but he had managed to do something to their navicomputer, because the pirates started yelling frantically.

"Throw him in the brig!" the leader shouted. The bandits dragging Loki saluted, then complied. The brig was a metal cell with shackles for the wrists and ankles. It wasn't clean, with piles of unswept dirt littering the floor. The pirates shackled Loki by his hands and feet, and then the door rattled shut and Loki found himself alone in the room.

He steadied himself. Thor will come, he thought. Or I will find a way to free myself. Loki had seen the ropes binding Thor and he guessed that it wouldn't take him long to get out of them. No, the real trouble wasn't the bonds— it was the damage that the bandits had dealt to their ship. Loki didn't know how capable Thor was at fixing anything.

Loki's eyes moved around the room and fell on a rack of knives. A shudder ran through his body. It is possible, he told himself, that the ship is small and so the brig doubles as the armory. Loki was a talented liar, but he couldn't quite make himself believe that the knives were merely spares.

Loki focused on listening to what the pirates were saying. He strained, trying to hear, but all he could make out was the low murmur of voices. He felt his breathing starting to rise again and forced himself to calm down.

"He disabled the hyperdrive," Loki heard one of them say.

Loki relaxed, even though doing so sent jolts of pain through his wrists. He had disabled their hyperdrive. That meant that he had time.

Some time passed— Loki didn't have a very good idea of how long. He was periodically tensing and relaxing his muscles, trying to keep them from becoming too stiff. This was a tactic he had employed before, and it also helped to pass the time. Loki stared at the ceiling. There wasn't much to see.

He heard footsteps approaching the door. Two of the bandits were speaking in low voices— presumably the leader and a crewmember.

"What are we going to do with him?" one asked.

"Sell him as a slave," came the curt reply. Loki recognized the voice of the pirate leader. "We can get some profit out of this trip if we can ever fix the blasted hyperdrive."

"He crippled our ship," the first one said.

"I know," the leader replied. "Why do you think you're down here? He needs to learn."

There was a moment of silence, then—

"Don't kill him. He's no use to us dead. But you can make him bleed."

Loki's eyes grew wide and his mind, of its own violation, immediately jumped to his older brother. Had he not been so afraid, that would have annoyed him. As it were, he focused on listening to the captain and his crewmate.

"Whatever you say, chief," the bandit was replying.

The leader's footsteps drew away and the door to Loki's cell creaked open. In sauntered one of the crewmembers; he was a large man, with a barrel-like chest and broad shoulders. He sported a long, tangled beard. He ignored Loki, instead walking toward the rack of knives that Loki had noticed earlier.

Loki's stomach dropped.

The man turned around and gave Loki a slow smile. "You disabled our hyperdrive," he said, his words slurred. Loki hoped he wasn't drunk. If he was drunk, he might hit somewhere he didn't mean to and Loki would end up dead.

"What do you want from me?" Loki asked, his voice level despite his inner panic.

"I'm here to teach you a lesson," the man responded in his slow, slurred voice. "A lot of slave traders, they whip their slaves. Never saw the use in that, myself." Loki made no reply. "If you whip your slaves, you have to hit them over and over and over again to make any impact," the man went on. "If you use a knife…" His voice trailed off.

Thor, Loki thought desperately.

The pirate stepped forward and Loki willfully ignored his gaze. His heart was thudding almost painfully in his chest, but he refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

Then the agony began.

Loki's screams echoed throughout the ship— mostly wordless cries, but occasionally his brother's name.

This was quite a bit longer, and was originally going to be even longer but I decided to cut it down. Thank you for reading and if you have time, please drop a comment telling me if you enjoyed!

~ Atticus