“There is a difference between can't and won't, brother,” he said quickly and perhaps a bit bitterly. There was plenty Odin could do, there was plenty he could say to try to sway the rage of his people... he wouldn't. Not because he couldn't but because he wouldn't. Odin was a cunning fellow, he would know the right words to say at the right time to cease an attack or even pursuit on the Trickster.
Loki's brow furrowed, “there is plenty you could say or do. It is not out of your hands, you chose wash your hands of it.” He wasn't exactly angry. He knew he deserved this fate, whatever it may be. Odin had said they would not kill him and while Loki didn't entirely believe that -Thor did get a little happy with the smashy-smashy with heads of giants and Loki was born of the giants, he was slightly more settled to know that he may survive this.
Though, he knew there were fates worse than death in this world.
“You could allow me permanent exile to one of the other eight worlds and allow my family to option to go with me.” But no, that wouldn't be allowed. Loki was no fighter, he couldn't really protect his wife or his children from angry Aesir if they came calling... or angry Jotuns. There were places he could go. Muspellheim. Jotunheim. To his mother.
Then something else struck Loki. If Odin wasn't there to harm him, but wasn't there to help him, what did want? He turned his head slightly, eying his blood-brother suspiciously and asked, “Why are you here?”