The sound of exhaustion escaped the lips of the mischief god as whispered his enchantment. In a flash of green his magic swept across his body, changing his clothes from the black and green battle armor to more casual wear, cleaning the dirt and sweat from his form as the light passed over him. He fell onto one of the couches he had manifested for himself with the remainder of his magic. He had been pushed to his limits too often as of late. If he was unable to get adequate rest he feared what the overall lasting effects the strain would have on his body and his magical abilities.

Loki absent-mindedly rubbed one of the glowing green metal bracers that were clasped onto his forearms. Inscribed with mystical runes they restrained his magic to an almost laughable weakness. He was so far from his full strength that he might as well have been mortal. It sickened him to have fallen so low. If only that was the only insult he had to suffer.

After his capture by his so called brother, the forgotten prince of Asgard returned home only to be bound by these blasted bracers the second he arrived to his forsaken home. The Allfather, in his supposedly purposeful wisdom, found it fit to strip his beloved adopted son of everything he had ever worked for, everything he had rightfully earned by his own sweat and blood, leaving him capable of only the most rudimentary spells that even those pathetic mortals could accomplish. Though, again, this was not the only insult he was forced to suffer.

The thunderer plead the trickster's case before the Aesir courts, arguing for the petty life of a frostgiant who could not argue for himself due to that blasted muzzle, though if it was not for the thunder god his lips would have been sewn shut forever. Just like everyone else in that immortal realm, the courts bent to the will of their reigning prince, and the forgotten prince was spared, under certain penalties.

The first was the limitations on his magic. If only for the fact that they feared he would perish without his magic they would have stripped him of everything he had. But he had not been sentenced to death, and therefore, they let him keep some of his former power.

The second was his right to kill. His right as a god to take life from others was restricted due to the power of the bracers on his arms. They ensured that he would be unable to fatally harm another being so long as he was under their power, including himself. No matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he planned and schemed, every deathtrap he would create and implement would be rendered useless when the bracers would use his magic to save the victim. This was a precaution the thunderer begged for endlessly.

The third was by far the most humiliating.

Thor suddenly burst through his room's door, loudly shouting his joyous of his morning's greetings. Despite Loki's groans of protest to his entry, Thor continued to step closer, grasping his brother hard on the shoulder and upsetting his restful meditation.

"Come hither Brother." Thor shouted too loudly for all reason.

"For the love of the Nine Realms, Thor," Loki shouted as he pulled himself up slightly, rubbing his eyes. "Those dreaded scientist would not give me a moment of peace for the whole of the night."

"But Brother," Thor said as he shook Loki awake, "The house told me that there is a battle to be fought in the city. Come, fight with me Brother!"

Loki sighed. "I'm not at full strength; I would not be of use to you." He freed his shoulder with the back of his hand and slumped down on the couch again to rest. "Give me a moment to rest. These blasted bonds weaken me too much. I need to rest."

"But-"

"Hey, Goldilocks, Magic-man," the grading disembodied voice of Tony Stark shouted from every corner of the room. "We kinda need some help out here, you know, if you don't want the city under siege by the forces of evil."

"Ironman, my brother needs time to recover, he's—"

"No rest for the weary, we need every available Avenger on this, including Reindeer-Games. And that's an order."

Loki groaned slightly and pushed himself off of the couch. He could muster he summoned his battle armor with much exhaustion. Thor gave him a regretful look as Loki began call upon all of the magic he could from the desolate Midgard.

"As you command." He hissed violently in the room and used his magic to transport Thor and himself to the fight ahead.

Living without his full power, fine, he did not need magic to fulfill his plans. Being unable to take a life, very well, he need not take a life in order to win a battle. However the third provision of his freedom, and by far the most humiliating, was his inability to disobey the mortals who called themselves the Avengers. This was the greatest of the insults he had to bear, being a virtual slave to the mortals who defeated him, who had humiliated him, and humiliate him still. Working endlessly at the whim of the mortals, was his punishment to suffer.