|Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know
Author: Trbl PM
At the end of Thor, Loki threw himself from the bridge intending to die. He hadn't counted on the girls at St. Trinians, though. But then, no one ever does. Loki/OFC. NOT Avenger's compliant.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor/Romance - & Loki - Chapters: 7 - Words: 13,477 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 25 - Follows: 26 - Updated: 03-20-13 - Published: 06-11-12 - id: 8206994
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Not "Avenger's" movie compliant. Special thanks to SpaceAnJL for her prodding, allowing me to bounce idea's off of her, and especially for her "suggestions" on some of the dialogue. THANK YOU!
Loki had thrown himself from the Bridge with every intention of perishing. He was falling, falling, falling, and then suddenly…not. He jerked to a stop, and felt himself being yanked sideways. To say that he was surprised to find himself crashing through some kind of ceiling onto the floor of a small room was a bit if an understatement.
He blinked dazedly up from his position on the floor. There were two young females standing over him, and three others standing back. There was a voice from behind him. "What the hell have you done?"
"Sorry, Miss, but Chloe said that we needed help." The two girls chorused. They were both diminutive, but one was red-haired and the other dark. The girl they indicated, a blond, lifted her chin at their words.
Loki, still stunned from his fall, slowly turned his head to face the one the girls called "Miss". She was small, slim and had a lot of hair, an unlikely shade of pink, piled messily atop her head. He tried to get up from his prone position, and found several pairs of hands eager to help.
In fact, some of the hands in question seemed to be touching him in places that he hadn't been touched in a long time. He froze, his green eyes wide in shock.
"Girls!" "Miss" admonished. "That's hardly appropriate." Her clear blue eyes met Loki's. "They're rather forward, I'm afraid." She came towards him, "I'm the Matron, Miss Murgatroyd."
He drew himself up to his full height, which was quite a bit taller than Miss Murgatroyd. "I am Loki, son of…," here he trailed off. He'd forgotten. He was *not* the son of Odin.
"Well, Loki, I'm terribly sorry that the girls summoned you, but…," her eyes widened. "Loki?" She turned to the girls. "You summoned the God of Mischief? Are you mad?" While she chastised the girls, Loki took a better look around the room into which he'd fallen. All of the furniture had been pushed back against a wall, and on the floor, there were runes, drawn in the shape of a triangle.
The girls chose not to answer that question. Instead, "We need him," was the response from the dark haired girl. The others nodded in agreement.
Loki's attention refocused on the conversation as something in his chest lurched at those words. "Need, how?" He asked, his tone ominous despite his pleasure at being needed.
"Girls," Miss Murgatroyd sighed. "You can't just summon the God of Mischief because the school is in a tight spot. We've been in tight spots before. We always manage."
Loki found it interesting that she was less concerned that her apparent charges had summoned him, than in the fact that the girls didn't seem to think the "school" could manage.
"But we need something spectacular," said the redhead. "We need rather a lot of money."
"That's as it may be, Angel, but…," she trailed off with a look at Loki. Her eyes narrowed. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing, Miss," the girls protested their innocence. Loki doubted that, and he did not even know them. He forbore mentioning that he had been injured before the girls summoned him.
"Well, someone obviously did. Chloe, go let Miss Fritton know what you have done, please." She returned her attention to Loki. "Come with me to the infirmary, please, Mr. Loki. I fear you may have a concussion."
"I do not know what that is, but I am quite certain that I do not have it."
"Are you a trained medical professional?" She returned. He looked puzzled. "I thought not. Follow me." She turned on her heel and left the room, clearly expecting him to follow. Left with the choice between staying with the children and following the adult, Loki followed.
She led him to a larger room with several beds, and an office feel to it. "Please sit down." She gestured to one of the beds. "Would you like to change into something more…comfortable than the armor?"
He blinked at her, looked down at himself, and magicked his clothing into a nice black suit with a green silk shirt.
She looked startled. "Oh." She blinked at him a couple of times. "That's convenient, but I meant … never mind. Follow the light with your eyes only, please." She flashed some kind of light in his eyes, checking for who knew what.
His confusion must have been clear, although he was usually good at hiding his thoughts. "I'm checking to see if your pupils are dilating properly. Next, I'll check for tenderness." She ran her hands gently over his scalp. For a man who was unused to casual touch, it was surprisingly pleasant, and he was surprised to find himself leaning into her hands.
She put iodine and bandages on his injuries, including the ones on his torso, which necessitated the removal of his rather nice shirt. Just about the time she finished, an older woman came into the infirmary with Chloe. The woman was almost as tall as Loki, with questionable blonde hair, and her voice, when she greeted him, was high-pitched.
"Hello, Chloe tells me we are entertaining a...god here at St. Trinians."
The sweet, social smile was quite at odds with the appraising look that swept him up and down. He suddenly felt the loss of his armor quite keenly, which was ridiculous.
"Loki Odinsson, Miss Fritton, Headmistress of St. Trinians." Matron Murgatroyd said.
Loki had been raised at court, and knew what was appropriate. He stood and sketched a bow. Miss Fritton gave a light titter, "Oh, how charming, I do so like good manners. Now, I do hope that my girls haven't inconvenienced you too badly, I would hate for you to think ill of us." She patted absent-mindedly at some of the bandages on his chest. "They can be a little too enthusiastic on occasion. Our school motto is 'Always Strike First', you see, and whilst in other schools girls are sent out quite unprepared into a merciless world, when our girls leave here, it is the merciless world which has to be prepared."
"My injuries were pre-existing, madam." Loki managed.
"Hmm." Those eyes were quite penetrating. "This school is also a safe haven for those who find themselves at odds with what society deems acceptable. And it never hurts to have a god on-side, whatever the pantheon. What do you intend to do now?"
It was the Matron who replied. "I'd really like him to stay in the infirmary, at least for tonight." She turned to Loki. "Would that be acceptable to you?"
Loki was pleased that she had consulted him. In his experience, healers rarely did so. "Yes, perhaps that would be for the best," he replied in silky tones to cover for the fact that he really had no idea where else to go.
"Wonderful," Miss Fritton proclaimed. "I'll leave you the Matron's very capable hands." With a significant look at the Matron, Miss Fritton took her leave.
Murgatroyd sighed. "She can make almost anything sound rather naughty."
He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged in return. "Do you want to lie down a bit before tea?"
Loki was nothing if not adaptable, "I would, but perhaps not right this moment." He hesitated. "Is it appropriate to enquire as to why the school needs money?"
"In the real world, no it wouldn't be," she smiled at him. "However, as Miss Fritton alluded, St. Trinians has never abided by the social niceties. Our most pressing need is to pay back taxes. I must confess to being surprised, as I thought that had been taken care of. Regardless, that's what we need the majority of the money for."
"And these taxes would be…?"
"Oh," she seemed surprised by his ignorance. "Do you know tithes?" At his nod. "It's similar. The government taxes its citizen to pay for the upkeep of the country. In this case, the United Kingdom, more specifically, England."
"I see." He paused thoughtfully. "And how did you intend to acquire the means to do so?"
"Not sure. But, St. Trinians always comes through." Her smile was certain.
"And they sought to 'come through' by summoning me?"
A frown marred her pretty face. "Apparently. I am rather disappointed that they took what amounts to the easy way out."
"As opposed to what," he asked, his voice silky once more.
She shivered ever so slightly before answering."Something clever. In my day we took a casino for 85,000 pounds."
Loki was more than a little surprised by her answer. He'd expected something boring form this disapproving little person. He also briefly wondered what she'd taken 85,000 pounds of and how she had managed to transport it. He didn't remember exactly how Midgardian measurements went, but he thought that 85,000 pounds would weigh rather a lot.
Despite his neutral expression, she must have sensed his confusion. "Pounds are the monetary unit of England." He nodded, comprehending and somehow more surprised. "But these girls…."
"Would you like me to punish them for their impudence?" He offered with a smirk.
"Certainly not. Impudence we encourage. It's the laziness that I'm concerned with."
He blinked in surprise and began to wonder exactly what sort of a place this was.
"Perhaps, if you're not ready to lie down just yet, you'd like to be shown around the school?"
He stood, once more towering over her. He smirked down at her from his superior height. She didn't seem to be at all intimidated. In fact she gave him a surprisingly sweet smile. "You're wasting your time, Mr. Loki. Everyone is taller than I am." The smirk slid from his face. "Are you ready, then?" He nodded stiffly at her.
He did not at all like the unbalanced feeling he got around her. Most people were predictable, and he could easily figure out what they wanted from him. Miss Fritton was easy. She wanted him to stay at the school to help her, and was willing to pander to him to attain that. Straightforward, perhaps even mutually beneficial. The girls wanted him to help them obtain money. What he got from them was slightly more nebulous. There was no doubt that he felt stronger and more powerful here, where these girls believed in him and his power.
But the little Matron… continued to surprise him, and often seemed to be able to read him as easily as he usually read others. And he was NOT used to be readable. And she didn't seem to want anything in particular from him. Of course, this just meant that he hadn't discovered what she wanted yet.
Still, best get a look around. Another nod at her, this one more amiable. She smiled that disarmingly sweet smile again, and gently led him from the infirmary.
As she showed him around, he became more confused not less. In the chemistry class (it looked like they were making potions and unguents to him) the instructor seemed to be teaching the young girls how to make bombs.
The admittedly sultry and attractive French teacher seemed to be teaching the girls how to ask how to find inappropriate places for such young girls. The look she shot Loki, however, was a balm to his ego. Clear interest and he allowed a smirk to cross his face. Several of the girls sighed. He chanced a glance at the Matron to see what she made of all this. She looked amused as she led him from the classroom.
The next class seemed to involve mathematics. However, the girls seemed to be learning about odds in games of chance. Loki made the connection between that and the Matron's comment regarding the casino. He vaguely remembered that games of chance, gambling were played in casinos. A plan started to formulate in his mind.
As the class became aware of their presence, the older girl focused on Loki with frightening intensity. He would admit, if only to himself, that the attention was rather flattering. Unfortunately, these girls were children. His glance slid to Matron Murgatroyd. She was an interesting one. Her whimsically pink hair, coupled with her overly reserved demeanor intrigued him.
The rest of the classes were just as confusing, and after the tour, he was ready to rest when the Matron suggested that he might like to rest a bit before dinner. He transformed his clothes into loose pants to sleep in, and climbed into the surprisingly cozy bed in the infirmary.
His dreams were filled with the coldness, real or imagined, of the Asgardian Court. Even before Odin's confession as to Loki's true origin, he'd been set apart, by temperament and skill-set. At least now it all made sense.
He was cold when he fell asleep, but was warm and toasty when he awoke. A warm hand rested on his cheek and a pleasant voice was speaking. "Mr. Loki? It's time for dinner."
His green eyes blinked open and he stared at the face hovering over him.
Concerned blue eyes stared back. "Are you all right?"
He cleared his throat. "Yes, I am fine." He sat up, not noticing her eyes drop to his now bare chest. "And, Matron?" She met his eyes, and his began to twinkle with mischief. "I have a plan."