Tony and Bucky were carelessly tossed into an arena. The ground was a blend of red sand and small rocks, and the arena seats were filled with chanting frost giants. Tony looked down at the weapon dropped at his bare feet, a battle-ax. Bucky had a similar weapon in front of him.
"Only one of you will walk out of here alive. And if you refuse to fight, you both die." Loki's voice boomed from an unknown source. Bucky picked up his ax, flipping it in his hands to adjust to the weight.
"So we're doing this then?" Tony asked with betrayal lacing his voice. He grabbed his own ax. The weapon was heavy and difficult to swing, but it was all he had.
"One of us has to make it out of here," Bucky responded and swung the ax at Tony's torso. Tony easily blocked it with the handle of his ax and swiftly kicked Bucky in the stomach. Bucky shifted back slightly from the kick, obviously unaffected. He swung the ax again, this time aiming for Tony's head. Tony ducked, feeling the rush of air as the blade whizzed by.
"Fight me, Stark!"
"I don't want to fight you, Bucky," Tony tried to reason. The super soldier continued to attack him. Tony threw out a well-timed punch and struck Bucky in the elbow. Bucky dropped his ax to grip his injury.
"We can find another way out of this," Tony assured. Bucky shook his head and charged him with an animalistic growl. Acting solely on instinct, Tony reached for Bucky's discarded ax and swung. There was a crunch followed by a squelch. Bucky's face drained of all color as his eyes drifted downwards to look at the steel ax blade lodged in his chest. Bloodstained the scuffed metal and dripped over the blade's edges onto the sand beneath. Tony backed away in horror, acutely aware of the coppery scent in the air and the spray of blood across his face.
"B-bucky," Tony said in a breathy whisper. The super soldier fell to his knees and then onto his side. His fingers twitched momentarily before he went completely limp. Despite the roaring crowd, Tony's ears were filled with silence. He dropped to his knees and gently tilted Bucky's head, pressing his fingers to the man's pulse point. He was dead.
"Bucky, I—" he struggled to speak, "I'm so sorry. Bucky, dammit, why did you charge me like that?" Tony mumbled shock setting in further. Bucky's words replayed in his head. "One of us has to make it out of here." The frost giant guard dragged Tony out of the arena.
"You self-sacrificing son of a bitch!" Tony shouted as Bucky's corpse was carted off. He was beyond angry, but he didn't know who it was directed towards. Bucky? Loki? Himself?
The frost giant dropped Tony onto the cold, dirt floor of the cell after chaining his waist and slammed the door.
"Where's Bucky?" Steve asked worriedly. He moved as close as he could to the bars to look for his best friend. Tony didn't answer.
"Mr. Stark, you're bleeding," Peter pointed out, gesturing to the blood on his face and hands. He moved closer to the man to check him for injuries.
"It's not mine," Tony whispered brokenly. There was a collective inhale as the realization settled in.
"My God. You killed him," Clint stated with shock.
"No!" Tony burst out suddenly, scaring Peter back to the cell wall. Tony tried to keep his voice steady.
"No, I didn't kill him. Not like that."
"After what he did to your parents, it would be the perfect opportunity," Steve interjected, his blood boiling.
"You don't understand," Tony defended, his tone rising again.
"Then tell us what happened, Tony," Natasha slipped into her usual role of mediator seamlessly. The cell was quiet as they waited for a response.
"Only one of us could leave, so he made sure it was me."
"Dammit, Bucky," Steve grumbled and held his head in his hands. The group fell into a heavy silence.
"Is that going to happen to us?" Peter asked fearfully, his small voice reminding them of just how young he was. The Avengers shot each other a sorrowful look.
"My brother has gone too far. I will find a way to make him pay for this," Thor swore.
"That's assuming that we make it out of here," Sam mumbled. Nobody spoke out against his statement.
Bucky slowly opened his eyes. His body was sunken into a luxurious king-sized bed covered in animal pelt blankets and soft pillows. He sat up and looked around, rubbing his head. His chest ached, which made sense seeing as he just had an ax sticking out of it. What didn't make sense was the fact that he was still alive. Bucky slipped out of the bed silently, he was clad in white, silk robes with gold patterns along the edges. His metal arm shone with the tell-tale sign of a fresh cleaning. As Bucky investigated the room, the door opened and a frost giant motioned for him to follow. Bucky walked down the endless corridors as tall as a giraffe and as elegantly decorated as the Notre Dame until they finally reached a towering set of heavy wooden doors. The giant opened them and ushered Bucky into a Norse dining hall before shutting the door behind him with a hefty thud. An enormous wooden table was adorned with golden platters piled high with fruits, vegetables, meats, bread, and dishes Bucky didn't even recognize. The various pastries also caught his gaze. The table was set with eleven plates and eleven cups, also made of gold. A green mist appeared at the head of the table; Loki was suddenly seated there.
"What am I doing here?" Bucky growled. He took a defensive pose. Loki only rolled his eyes and leaned back casually in his seat. He snapped his fingers, Bucky was instantly seated in the chair to Loki's left.
"You're wondering why you're not dead," Loki began. Bucky glared at him and waited for an explanation.
"It's simply because you were never meant to be. I didn't bring you here to kill you; that would piss my brother off too much for my liking. No. I just wanted to be entertained. And, as a reward for playing my little game, you will live in luxury until it is complete."
"You're sick," Bucky insulted. Loki shrugged and helped himself to a cluster of plump, purple grapes and a turkey leg.
"Go on, don't be shy. I saw you eying the danishes. I developed a taste for them since my first visit to New York." Bucky hesitated but eventually gave in when his stomach growled urgently. The super soldier silently cursed his metabolism and took a danish. After all, what was the harm? Nobody was dead and he was hungry.