Peter was just starting to fall asleep when the cell door swung open and a tray of bread was set on the ground by a frost giant. It then set a flask of water next to the tray before leaving, locking the cell door behind it. Steve made a move towards the loaf of bread and examined it carefully.
"It seems fine." He broke off a piece and handed it to Peter before breaking the bread up into smaller portions.
"Eat slowly. That will make you feel more full," Natasha informed.
"We don't know if we'll be fed again," Sam mumbled.
"When," Bruce corrected," when we'll be fed again. Loki didn't go through all that trouble just to let us starve to death." Peter broke his bread in half and handed it to Steve.
"You have an increased metabolism too. You need the extra food just as much as I do," Peter stated. Steve pushed the teen's outstretched hand back to his chest.
"You're top priority, son. We all agreed already, if only one of us gets out of here it will be you." Peter looked around the cell with wide eyes.
"Me. Why me? I- I'm not worthy of that."
"Nonsense, Son of Parker. You are a great hero," Thor assured. Peter pulled his knees to his chest and stared down at the bread in his hands. He shook his head.
"No, we are going to make it out of here. Nobody else is going to die," Peter swore with conviction.
"Pete, we don't exactly have a choice here—" Peter cut Rhodey off.
"I won't let anyone else die." The cell fell back into solemn silence.
Loki led Bucky down a swerving mass of hallways and into arena box seats. There were ten chairs, two rows of five. Loki sat in one of the middle chairs, it was adorned in gold and had green, velvet cushions.
"Sit. The show is about to start." He gestured to the seat on his left. It was like the rest of the nine chairs, a thick wooden frame with red, velvet cushions. Bucky swallowed thickly and took a seat. He immediately recognized the battle arena where he had an ax driven into his chest. He winced at the memory. Now, the two contestants were being brought out onto the field. Peter and Rhodey were tossed into the arena with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a pair of Norse spears.
"Leave him out of this, Loki! He's just a kid," Bucky begged for Peter's sake.
"Asgardian warriors are forged in fire from their birth. Frost giants must bring home a feast on their first birthday or face execution. Why should humans be treated any differently?" Loki said without a care. Bucky bared his teeth in a show of rage.
"You heartless bastard!" He lunged at Loki, but green mist pulled him back and restrained him to his chair.
"Hush! You'll ruin the entertainment," Loki scolded before leaning back in his seat to watch comfortably.
Peter picked up his spear with shaking hands.
"Mr. Rhodey, I'm scared," he admitted. Peter had faced death countless times while saving the world, but he had never been afraid to die then. Now was different. Now was solely survival.
"It's okay, Peter. Everything's going to be okay," Rhodey assured as he picked up his own spear.
"I don't want to die," Peter choked out as he clashed his spear with Rhodey's. They both knew they had to fight or they'd both die.
"You're not going to die, Peter."
"I don't want you to die either!" They continued their dance of striking and blocking, then blocking and striking.
Loki became impatient.
"At least the first duo had some fire to them. This is just depressing." Bucky would have retorted if his lips weren't magically sealed shut, so he resorted to glaring at Loki instead. The trickster waved his hand through the air and the arena sand began to rumble.
The ground broke and shifted into a series of cliffs and uneven, rocky slopes. Peter would have fallen if it wasn't for his ability to stick to surfaces. He grasped a rising rock with one hand and held Rhodey by the wrist with his other hand. They stayed like that until the arena finished shifting. Rhodey dangled over a bottomless gash in the ground.
"Good catch, kid," Rhodey said breathlessly. The rock Peter was hanging on to started to loosen from the cliffside. Peter's mind flashed to a similar instance with Tony and the street sign.
"Don't let go, Mr. Rhodey. I can hold us both!" Rhodey was already lifting his free hand to pry Peter's fingers off.
"You can't. Don't cut your life short just because you're stubborn. There will be plenty more people to save." The rock shifted again and left Peter holding on with just a few fingers.
"Please! I made a promise, nobody else dies," Peter pleaded, his vision blurry from unshed tears.
"Don't forget about me, okay kid?"
Loki waved his hand and shifted the cliff just enough to shake them both loose.
"Too much talking, not enough bloodshed," Loki grumbled.
Peter and Rhodey tumbled through the air towards the open crack. The ground snapped closed around Rhodey, leaving Peter to land on the sand with a thud. He rolled on his side until he hit a protruding rock that stopped him. The teen lay dazed and numb. His face and body were streaked with sand, sweat, and tears. His spinning head barely registered the frost giant picking him up and carrying him back to the cell.
Rhodey awoke confused and relatively cozy in a bed fit for royalty and covered in animal pelt blankets and soft pillows. Bucky sat by his feet adorned in the same silky, white, and gold robes Rhodey was now dressed in.
"Am I dead?" Bucky let out a dry chuckle at his question.
"To them, yes. Don't worry, I'll explain everything."
Peter sat with his knees tucked to his chest. He cradled his arm which was surely fractured. The team— what was left of them— tried to get Peter to tell them what happened, but gave up when they realized not a word would be said by the teen. Not that day, at least. Now all they could do was wait in hopes that the game would be called off before anyone else was lost.