He wanted to steal some of that brightness and take it home with him, nurture it like a flame in the dark. He could have sat there watching the feast all night, drinking honey-sweet mead in small sips like liquid summer days. The Jotun hated warmth and fire and all things bright, but Loki did not. He was dazzled by it, drawn to it like a dwarf to gold, and so distracted that he did not notice the raven watching him, or Lord Odin bending to speak a serious word in his son's ear, or the threatening figure of Thor approaching his table. Not until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

[Clever Cinderella AU.]

"Loki," Odin says, heavy with disappointment and regret for all he has to raise his voice, "Odinson. I cast you out."

It was never easy to find Loki when he wanted to hide, but he wasn't doing a particularly good job of it at the moment. Probably he didn't think anyone from Asgard would be wasting their time hunting for him while the shining ones churned their way steadily through all the realm.