As Loki leaves the barren battlefield, he smiles at the witch's foolishness, firmly believing that noone had the power to take his. But that belief brought him solace for only the briefest second. When he summoned his magic, a seemingly unendless energy that he could bend and shape as he wanted, it did not spring up to meet him.
His first reaction was rage. Anger filled him as he uselessly recited spell after spell. But, even the simplest spell he'd learned as a child refused to work.
Next he sought out any being he thought capable of breaking the witch's hold on him. None able or either none were willing. It was not long before all options were lost to him, and his newly found weakness was known far and wide.
With one part of the curse filled, Loki waited in agony for the second, but it was only the choice to do as she said and return home that he started to hear. He comforted himself that he was not following orders, there were simply no other options before him with an assassin waiting for him around every corner. But that choice to swallow his pride, though his, was still a hard one,
The soilders that guarded the front door of his childhood home were his first obstacle. Both armed with weapons that hat he could have easily deflected even without magic, but as the once mighty god, hated this life at the moment, he saw no reason to disarm these burly men. If they chose to kill him, he would not stop him. But if he did indeed live, an honest interest was growing within him, what would the voices say? Had he truely left a mark on the people he touched? He smirked at the thought, the first in a long time his mind taking on a lighter hue.
He distracted himself with these thoughts as he walked past the guards. They made little effort to stop him, besides a glare they hoped to stop his approch. Loki thought to say something, a snide remark that would forever teach them not to question their god. But he refrained, he needed to gain entrance, and the safty of the palace, a verbal lashing would not earn it for him.
As he passed the threshold, the voices started. At first they were little more than a dull roar at the edges of his mind, not his ears. But each time a person turned or either glanced his way his name was mentioned. Loki. Spoken in fear and shock, but nothing more.
"Loki?" A voice boomed.
"Thor?" Loki mumbled as the hulking blond walked forward, and wrapped Loki in a hug that could crush him.
"How have you been brother?"

/Not that we care./ Came a faint voice, flashing across his mind like a bolt of lightening.
"What did you say?" Loki asked, his voice strained.
"How have you been brother?" He asked again, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Are you well?"
"Yes," he smiled. "Just tired."
"Ah, well that is to be expected," An older man said behind him.
"Father," Loki said.
The old man walked up behind him, "It's good to see you son."

/Not in the least./

He smiled, and walked to his throne. "I've heard what happened."

/But then again, who hasn't?/

"It's most unfortunate."

/It should have happened a long time ago./

"But, of course, your welcomed to stay with us until you feel comfortable enough to leave."

/Without your powers, maybe you won't be such a dissappointment./
Lok's mind spun, as he struggled to figure out what his father was saying, and what he thought. He smiled, "Forgive me father, I'm not well. You have to excuse me." He walked out as he heard from behind him, /You've never been well./ He turned, wondering who'd said it, but he was meet by two blank stares.