"Congratulations," boomed a warm, smooth voice, "on being three of the most amusing, sporting players Sakaar has seen in centuries."

"W...what?" Thor's shock and outrage rippled forth so strongly it set their hairs on end.

"Brunnhilde – Scrapper 142 – was not initially a participant. But she has added a, well, fantastic twist to the series of events, wouldn't you say?" An additional wave of cheers went up for the ex-Valkyrie, whose face burned almost as fierce as her eyes.

"This bounty hunter and occasional bartender has been an integral part in keeping our Games going for years. Perhaps it's fitting, after all, that she will now be a part of it."

A three-dimensional projection appeared in the air. A series of vignettes showed glimpses of what had taken place in the pleasure chamber earlier, ending with the half-Skrull's dead body lying amidst the rubble.

"Regrettable, what happened to the winner of our little auction. But his ferocity will not be soon forgotten. Nor will his killer's!"

Loki drew a sharp, painful breath. The audience had seen it all...seen him stripped and spread out; seen him throwing up on himself, and beaten nearly to a pulp for it...He cast his gaze away so they would not see the tears of humiliation. Thor curled a protective arm around him with a low angry growl.

"Now, the Crown City of Sakaar is ruled by its time-honoured imperial traditions. And tradition dictates that all slaves or captives may win the liberties of a citizen if they survive three rounds in the arena." A pause. "But times, uh, must change."

The cheers and excited hooting died down in anticipation of the Grandmaster's next words.

"Thor, Lord of Thunder, has already fought one round and triumphed. These other two remain untested. Though while I say 'untested', anyone who has just seen Scrapper 142 in action will not take her lightly.

"As for Loki, the other Prince of Asgard – ahaha, yes, it turns out Thor and he are brothers! – he is in no fit condition to fight. But not to worry...in this year's Games, there are challenges other than the blood-spilling kind..."

Thor drew Loki closer. "You will not touch him!"

To these words there was no reply. Their surroundings were shrinking as the walls went up once more and the noise of the spectators faded away. At the same time, a small army of towering well-armoured guards surrounded the three.

Before they could put up a fight, they were pinioned ruthlessly and a round metal disc slapped onto each of their chests. The discs sprouted fine spider-like legs that embedded themselves into the flesh. "Not these damned things again!" went Thor. Brunnhilde only groaned in regret.

"Why, what do they – "

Then Loki had his question answered as one of the guards squeezed a slim remote device that set off a blindingly strong electric current through the metal discs. The three contestants collapsed to the ground as one.

When Thor opened his eyes, it was to morning sun shining cheerfully through circular windows in a spacious, well-furnished chamber. The walls were a soft white, and only the brightly coloured chairs and cushions hinted at the gaudiness one came to expect of this place.

He slowly rose to a sitting position, finding he did not ache as much as he thought he would. Also he was wearing clean clothes: a simple tunic and trousers in a pleasant dark blue with gold trim. The disc, unfortunately, remained attached to his chest.

He looked to his right and saw Loki in the next bed. His heart sang with joy even in their perilous situation – a surge of protectiveness nearly overcame him, at being close to his brother once more. Loki was pale and slightly worn but in much better condition than the broken, bloodied, pain-wracked creature he had been last night. The wounds on his face had already faded. He, too, had been cleaned up and dressed in a similar tunic in a slightly lighter blue.

Thor smoothed back his hair and kissed his forehead. He felt Loki's eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

"Mmm. You woke me from a good dream."

"Was I in it?"

"Not everything I do revolves around you, Thor."

Thor grinned down at him. Their lips met.

"I knew you were here from the moment I landed. I could feel it."

"Rubbish. Brunnhilde told me you were asking around for me. No subtlety, as usual."

A hand brushed his chest. Loki's fingers explored the edge of the cool metal disc. "My magic has been sapped from me," he sighed. "I should be capable of getting this thing off, but..."

"Rest first, Loki. We'll find a way out. We're together now." They kissed again, leisurely, deeply, like they had not done in a long time.

Thor shifted his weight; he felt the other wince. "I'm sorry. You're still healing..." He ran a hand gently over Loki's torso, then slid into bed beside him so as not to risk crushing him.

Loki's hand slipped beneath his tunic. He responded in kind. Lifting the fabric and seeing the faint blossoms of purple bruises was enough to make him hurt. He felt both fierce and tender, as if he would dedicate the entirety of his life to protecting his little brother.

He stroked the nape of Loki's neck, cupping his chin, while the other kneaded Loki's slim thigh and slid down the waistband of the trousers. Loki's nails dug into his back; just enough to sting lightly, the way he liked it. Their breathing picked up at the familiar sensations. Thor moaned as his cock began to harden. He widened his legs so he could grind it against Loki's –

"AAAAAARRGHH!"

It wasn't clear who screamed first when the jolt hit them. It was only when they parted that the searing pain spreading from their chests died down.

"W-what...what the..." Loki, white with pain at the shock to his fractured ribs, tentatively touched his disc. Nothing happened. "Is this thing m-made to keep people from being intimate?"

"And why?" said Thor, still shaking.

Brunnhilde appeared from the adjoining room, her mass of dark hair still sleep-mussed. "What happened?"

"We were given a little surprise by this...thing." Thor pointed at his disc.

She frowned. "But why? What did you do?"

Loki gave his brother a pointed look. "Do you want to tell her, or shall I?"

"Tell her what?"

"Tell me what?"

"Loki...uh...gave me a hug."

There was a prolonged silence in which Loki looked deeply exasperated at how a bad a liar his brother was.

"Oh, please." She wore the same smirk she had greeted Loki with when they first met. "You think I lived over four decades in the capital of Sakaar without seeing worse? By all means, do what you do. I'll leave you alone."

"Yes – well, we can't. In fact. Do what we do." Loki gritted his teeth. "These infernal things make sure of that."

"Loki, are you sure – "

"Would you like to try again, Thor?" He held his arms open mockingly. "Give me a kiss, brother."

"We were fine when it was just kissing..."

"Really? At what point does the pain kick in?" Brunnhilde was, quite remarkably, already at the bar and reaching for the biggest bottle. "Can I watch?"

"Seems like being in the Grandmaster's favour rubbed off on you. What's next; you'll take bets on who jerks off whom?"

"Oohh, watch where you throw your barbs. Don't forget who you spewed blood all over when we were saving your ass."

Thor held up his palms. "Can we not start fighting – "

There was a soft but insistent bell-chime. They looked as one toward the door. Which, of course, slid open without the consent of the room's inhabitants. Not that they ended up complaining too much.

A statuesque golden-skinned redhead led the exquisite assemblage that brought in their breakfast. Each one of them was beautiful. Large, small, slender, muscled, curvaceous, voluptuous, reedy; male, female, a mix of both; diamond-eyed, onyx-skinned, as well as a few more human-like beings if humans were faintly luminous and smelt of spices and sea-wind.

And all of them wore next to nothing.

"We trust you will find your morning repast satisfactory. More will come in the afternoon," said the golden woman.

"And once you have sated your hunger," added a sprite with shimmering tattoos, "we will willingly satisfy your other appetites."

The three of them tore their eyes away from the bevy of beauties long enough to exchange wide-eyed looks.

"Well, I don't know about you," said Loki at last, "but that roasted bird looks delicious."

The hunger that suddenly hit them necessitated they fill their bellies first. And the food was delicious. Even Brunnhilde ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the various tastes and textures; her methods of livelihood, while profitable, had never afforded her this level of culinary lavishness.

Thor, who had fallen in love with coffee on Earth, delighted in the extraordinarily rich flavour of the steaming brew served with breakfast. Loki refused to touch more than one cup even though the servers assured him by sampling it themselves. "Thanks for reminding me of my own advice," Brunnhilde said with a wry smile. She did give in to two helpings of the delicious coffee though.

Once they had had their fill, the dishes were neatly put away in seconds and the serving staff began kneading their shoulders, giving them foot rubs, clearly paving the way for increasingly intimate activity.

"You don't suppose..." Loki began, glancing sideways at Thor.

"What?" Thor frowned.

"I mean. Maybe it only hits us when we're with each other."

His brother's face clouded over. "You're not serious."

"Ohh, I'm sorry. I had no idea we were in a strictly monogamous relationship."

"But...in the same room!"

"So go to Brunnhilde's room. Close your eyes. Pretend it's me." Loki smiled. "And I'll pretend it's you."

He surveyed the serving staff. "Are there any shapeshifters among you?"

A dark slender woman stepped forth. "My abilities are considerable. But I cannot do animals."

"Yes, well, we don't do animals either." He pointed to Thor. "How about him?"

She moved in a way where her entire body appeared to shrug. In a couple of seconds, she had become the spitting image of Thor, down to a recently won scar on his forehead.

"Marvellous. And...could you add some hair? Long, blond, a little bit wavy."

She did as he asked. Loki beamed; Thor scowled.

"We'll do our best to, ah, get a room – as they say on Midgard." Loki led her to the adjoining chamber where Brunnhilde had been sleeping.

Barely seconds later they heard a scream.

"Damn it all to Hel!" Loki stormed back in, cradling his ribs, the Thor replica now giving him a wide berth. He jabbed a finger at his real brother. "You try someone next."

"Uhh, no, thank you." Thor rose from under the expert fingers of his masseur, a tall androgynous youth. "I think I'll have to settle for...well. For my own company."

He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door firmly. "Don't get your mess all over!" Loki called after him with a wrinkled nose.

Five seconds later:

"FUUUUUCKK!"

It was with many guilty looks in the direction of the two brothers that Brunnhilde slipped away with the golden redhead woman in tow. It seemed that she alone would get to satisfy her sexual wants without limit or restraint.

In between trying to focus his mind on a spell that could neutralise the disc, Loki – who had forcefully dismissed the rest of the servants, now that they were an unwelcome distraction – shot glowering looks at Thor, as if this was somehow his fault. Thor was not too bothered by this. He was bothered far more by a burning lust that could not be sated by anyone; not even, it seemed, by himself.

"Perhaps it's all for the best," he said half-heartedly. "Who knows, the Grandmaster and his twisted crowd could be watching everything we do..."

He expected a sarcastic reply, but instead Loki favoured him with a thoughtful look. "It could explain how the discs are activated. I keep wondering how it senses sexual activity."

"Gods, Loki, no. I wasn't actually serious." Thor's eyes darted around in a paranoid manner. "He's watching...? He IS watching us, isn't he?"

Loki sighed. "Would you calm down? There are worse things facing us tonight than being subject to constant voyeurism, I'm sure."

After a while, he gave up on the disc and instead began making small green sparks and wisps of flame with his fingers. His mind felt a little sharper now – in fact he felt more clear-headed than he had been since landing on this gods-forsaken planet. He allowed his attention to dim out the world as it spiralled into a single point. He let the edges of his consciousness drift outward to retrieve the runes and shapes of spells that waited dormant till they were called on again.

Occasionally he heard a whisper from intrusive voices; occasionally, he recalled a string of sweet words whispered into his ear as those ringed fingers brushed the nape of his neck, entrancing and binding him beneath the boughs of perfumed trees... He shook his head to clear away such thoughts.

As for Thor, he tried to lose himself in stretches and push-ups in an effort to not think about running his mouth and hands all over Loki. He stewed over how intensely unjust it was that the threat of the Games hung over all their heads, yet only Brunnhilde got to fuck her worries away. He said as much to Loki. In response he received only silence.

"Loki?"

His brother had gone into a semi-catatonic state. Or – well, meditative was more the word. Perfectly, worryingly still, so much that he did not move an eyelash when Thor poked him in various places.

"Looks like it's working," said a voice from behind him. He turned to see Loki walking out of the bathroom. Then turned back to see Loki still seated immobile beside him. The other version continued walking toward him, holding out an upturned hand. "And please stop poking me. Here, touch this."

Marvelling at this wondrously sentient illusion, Thor did so and found his palm meeting solid flesh. Then he pushed lightly – and the flesh turned to light cool sand before dissipating in the air.

"Hmm. Could use a bit more work, but it's getting there." This was said by the real Loki, now woken from his unmoving state. "Also, I have to be on the move while doing this, which could be tricky..."

"What are you saying?"

He had not seen Loki beam so earnestly in ages. "I think I have a plan."

Just then Brunnhilde emerged from her bedroom with the smug smile of the well-satiated. It turned into a look of alarm, then awe, when she was immediately surrounded by three Lokis.

"We're busy enough without extra players, thanks," she said as the golden woman sidled up beside her, quite naked. Then her face went serious. "Impressive magic...But this means – "

"Exactly." Loki nodded. "I'm glad someone in the room can catch up."

"Are they solid?" Brunnhilde squeezed the arm of a Loki clone, only for it to waver and partially crumble. Loki (the real one) frowned.

"I'm working on that." He waved and the doppelgangers disappeared.

"Oh – but – wait. T'wyzla can help!"

"Who?"

She took her new paramour's hand. "T'wyzla has Sovereign blood; in fact, she's a descendant of Kismet herself – you know – "

"Also known as the great Paragon, or Ayesha. I've read about her." Loki's face was guarded, but his eyes gleamed with keen interest that had nothing to do with Twyzla's nakedness. "How much can we trust you?"

"I am a slave of the Imperial City as much as you; if not more," T'wyzla replied. "As a child, I was worked half to death in the silver mines. As a woman, I was used by every man who ever passed through the Red King's hall. I have been property of the Crown before the Grandmaster's time. And I volunteered to serve you for a reason."

Thor reached out to clasp her shoulder. She inclined her head in acknowledgment.

"Show them what you can do," said Brunnhilde.

The woman focused her gaze on the floor, then let it drift upward over the walls, the furniture, drawing minute particles from various objects to form a rather good and very solid likeness of Brunnhilde.

"Its movements are very limited, though," said the real Valkyrie, in a way that strongly suggested this experiment had been part of their bedplay. "Loki – do you think..."

"...We could combine our abilities? It's worth a try."

That strangely radiant, earnest beam crept across his face again, and Thor – in an impulsive rush of affection – pulled him in for a kiss. It was rough and forceful and left Loki breathless.

"Did you have to do that in front of them?" he fumed once his eyes were no longer glazed over.

"Be thankful for the discs, that I didn't do more."

"Brute." Loki scowled. Thor smiled.

Lunch was every bit as dazzling as breakfast, served by yet another array of beautiful people holding trays of even more exquisitely presented delicacies. Dinner was an entire roasted trizelle (a native triped mammal prized for its succulence) that could barely fit through the door. It was still smoking when two of the serving staff carved and served it, the skin wonderfully crisp and the meat infused with aromatic spices. After several helpings each they barely had room for the side dishes of a spicy, tangy salad or crystallised fruits that looked almost too pretty to eat.

T'wyzla and Loki indulged themselves the least; they spent nearly every spare second perfecting their conjured clones, shouting with triumph when they successfully enacted a mock battle between moving replicas of themselves, Thor, and Brunnhilde. During meals they took turns to disappear at intervals, allowing their cloned selves to emerge and interact with the servants as a test of how convincing they were.

Loki found it surprisingly easy to work with the red-haired woman. He also found himself throwing fewer barbs, his words less mocking or abrasive than they might have been with most. On occasion that he let loose an insult, T'wyzla shrugged it off or laughed coolly. She had the air of someone who had been through enough that such slights were as the barking of a dog up a mountain. And he was the one made to feel like that small, yappy dog.

"Your abilities and stamina are considerable," he remarked reluctantly after he found himself having to take a break (blaming his healing injuries) while she soldiered on. "Why didn't you attempt escape ages ago?"

She smiled ruefully. "Conditioning. From a very tender age. With the absence of both my parents, there was nobody to tell me that my own well-being mattered as much as that of the City's governors, and its elite. I knew only that my purpose was to serve."

"And what changed your mind?"

A short laugh. "Strangely enough, it was a pamphlet."

"A...pamphlet?"

"I found it in the trash. Another failed revolution, I suppose."

She disappeared on the spot, and just inches away from where she had been standing, a Loki in silver armour materialised.

Loki appraised the very convincing twin of himself. "Not quite failed." He conjured a thought in his mind, and the twin threw a dagger into the wall opposite. It embedded itself with a thunk. "Not yet."

The roar of the crowd was immense even from their windowless chamber, where champions were apparently contained before being unleashed to the arena. "It's better than that trashy freak-circle I first got dumped in," Thor commented. He rubbed his chest, thankful that their discs had been removed at least.

He tested the fit of the vambraces and armour he'd been equipped with; Brunnhilde did the same. They were battle-worn – Thor couldn't help but wonder if anyone had died in his – but otherwise there was little to complain about. Sturdy, well fitting, with no signs of rust.

The other two had not been given armour, or indeed any kind of clothing that could be described as protective. But while the redhead had been afforded a simple tunic dress, Loki was rather sore about his own raiment, which were not so much clothes as narrow strips of blue-green silk. Thor had decided not to remark how the colour flattered his eyes. Or how bending over even an inch displayed an eyeful of ass.

"Alright. So. When that door opens, we take down whoever did the...opening, then we turn left while our clones turn right. Left is the way out, right?" Brunnhilde was pretending not to be antsy and failing.

"For the ten thousandth time, yes."

"I wasn't talking to you, Loki."

"You know this place, don't you?" He countered her restlessness with a mocking show of calmly examining his nails.

"I've only been to that trash circle once – to break your brother out, you're welcome – and never in here."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get your bearings. Your confidence is very assuring."

"You know if the plan goes balls up, you can always wiggle your ass at whoever we have to distract."

Thor sighed. "Can we not – "

The door swung open. All four sprung to their feet, Loki and T'wyzla with conjured knives in their hands.

"Oh, no need to get so testy. The battle's not begun yet." That smooth mulled-cider voice, so seductive when it dropped to a whisper. Loki found himself torn between falling into the man's arms and gouging his eyes out.

"The two princes of Asgard, as promised." The Grandmaster spoke to the man beside him: richly-dressed, some years older, with a dignified bearing and a shock of frost-coloured hair. His face was marked in a similar way to the Grandmaster's; in fact they had the air of distant brothers, or cousins.

His blue-lined eyes appraised Thor and Loki as if they were pieces from an incomplete collection. "You'll be sending one of them into the arena tonight? I hope he'll not suffer too much damage."

"I'll be sure to declare a verdict before his pretty face is irreparably marked. But, you know, gods – " an affected hand-wave – "they heal so fast. Speaking of pretty, aha, Loki my dear...would you come forward? You look well. Sorry for what we put you through, darling –"

"Don't touch me," Loki hissed. Thor loomed protectively by his side.

The Grandmaster laughed; a golden sound, almost pure. "Don't they look magnificent together! And to think they'll finally get to pleasure each other after the battle."

Thor frowned. "What?" Loki gripped his arm painfully, eyes shooting daggers.

"I've pictured it all, you know. Thor, the mighty barbarian, bloodied from the fight, seeking to claim his prize...his beautiful, beloved prize. Ooh, the crowd will be wild...!"

He came down from his delighted reverie to gaze at the two of them. "Oh. You weren't told?"

Loki's eyes narrowed. "So that's why the discs kept us..."

"Well! I mean, couldn't have you – uh – worn out before we even begin, no? Got to build things up, get the blood going. Nothing like marching into war with a raging cock, is there?"

Thor fair growled as he swung out at the Grandmaster. Then he froze on the spot, his fist two inches away from the man's head of silver hair.

"Mind your manners, thunder-sparkles. You too, 142. And your girlfriend." Loki realised he had not even seen half of the man's might as his three companions were helplessly frozen in mid-motion without so much as a gesture. He felt the crackle of ancient magic in the air. Here was a being – two beings, if he was right about their being related – far older and more powerful than him. The Grandmaster blinked slowly in his direction, and he felt an invisible seal cast all over him, stoppering his own magic beneath his skin.

"Don't look so frightened, child," said the older man. "You are an exquisite creature; I wouldn't dream of ruining you. I simply like to examine my wares before I buy them."

"Doesn't trust his own kin, this one," said the Grandmaster reproachfully.

The man said nothing, but proceeded to examine what felt like every inch of Loki's body. He felt the push of cool unwelcome flesh in all his openings, unable to resist, to put up even a pretence of a struggle. His limbs felt weighed down somehow – as if he was indeed an inanimate object put up for display and for sale. All he could do was fix his stony gaze into the distance as two fingers invaded his mouth, and another buried itself deep in his ass, in his cunt. It was a hard, methodical prodding he was subject to, and it hurt.

"A bit of healing left to do. Aside from that, he is most satisfactory." The man approached Thor, still frozen in place with his mask of rage, and ran a hand down the muscled arms and broad back. "I look forward to seeing this one in action," he murmured. "Both quite fine indeed, in their own ways. And I trust their...after-battle performance will be quite a show."

Smirking, the Grandmaster led his kinsman from the chamber. As the door opened, they could hear the crowd baying ever louder, hungry for blood.

A crackle of lightning made all their hair stand on end as the spell lifted and Thor, unfrozen, bellowed his rage into the air. Loki laid a hand on his chest and found himself nearly crushed by the massive arms. "I swore to not let anyone touch you like that," said Thor. "And I –"

"Don't," Loki whispered. He closed his eyes and, for once, gave in openly to Thor's embrace, clinging to the broad chest where – if he let himself admit it – he felt safer than anywhere in the world. He closed his eyes and let the thrumming energy flowing from his brother's every vein renew him, reinvigorate his own magic.

He could have stayed there forever. Or at least for the next two hours. But there was an escape plan to see to.

"Now we fight," he said. "Now we flee."