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Chapter Text

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 of 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. Trinian's." 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. Trinian's." 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. Trinian's 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. Trinian's 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."

Chapter Text

Loki sat up in the bed, stretching his arms and shoulders.

The Matron said, "I would just like to check your injuries quickly before dinner." She waited for him to nod, and gently removed the first bandage. Only to find that the injury had healed. "H-how…?"

"Magic," he said with a small grin.

"Why didn't you...?" She sighed, feeling embarrassed at her earlier concern for him. "I should have realized that you could take care of it yourself, when you were able to change your clothing so effortlessly."

He saw her embarrassment and let the smile fall from his face. "No, Matron, I needed to regain a little of my strength before affecting the healing. The garments were a cosmetic change, requiring little power. To heal my injuries required far more power than I had available earlier. I *was* in need of the care and sanctuary provided here."

She reached out a single finger to carefully prod where she knew an injury to have been earlier. "That's rather amazing." Curious blue eyes lifted to his green ones. "May I ask…? Miss Fritton said that the girls had not caused your injuries." She didn't finish, but then she didn't really have to. At his hesitation, she spoke again. "Miss Fritton offered you sanctuary. I do not question that. I would just like to be prepared for any storm that may follow." Her eyes screamed honesty. And few people could successfully lie to Loki, God of Mischief and Lies.

"Storm is an ironic choice of words, Matron." Loki said as he met her eyes. He then proceeded to tell her a slightly edited accounting of what had happened to bring him to this place. As he began telling her about the final confrontation that had culminated in his plummet from the Bifrost, he tried to gauge her reaction, but she kept her expression fairly neutral.

She had heard him out in silence, although her eyebrows had shot up a few times. By the time he finished, her eyes were icy with anger. "Do you mean to sit there and tell me that after kidnapping you as an infant, raising you as his own son, allowing you to become lawful bloody king after your ersatz brother was bloody well banished for trying to start a war, your father," she spat the word father, "had the audacity to… I thought that I had a screwed up family."

He blinked at her in surprise. This was not the reaction that he had been expecting from her. "Odin was doing what he felt was best for Asgard." He said finally.

"That's all well and good for the king. As a father…he sucks."

"Sucks?" Loki was confused.

"He was very, very bad at it."

"Ah… he saved me, Matron. On Jotunheim."

"So he says. You only have his word for that, and frankly, his credibility is nil." She suddenly realized that she was speaking of the only father that their guest could remember. "I'm sorry, Mr. Loki, that was quite rude of me."

"No," Loki hastened to say. "No, it was… pleasant to hear."

She gave a snort that was somehow still ladylike. "Next time I'll tell you about my father and *you* can be judgmental and rude. You should dress, and we'll head down do dinner." She stepped away to give him space for this.

During dinner, Loki told the Matron that he would need additional information in order to execute his plan. "Research would be Angel and Haley, you met them earlier." She had a tiny smile on her face as she said it.

He smirked back at her. "I'll speak to them after the meal, then."

"I'll send them to you," she offered, still smiling.

After dinner, she was as good as her word and brought the two girls over to him. "Mr. Loki, you remember Angel and Haley?"

"Of course," he said graciously. "I have need of…research." He hesitated a little over the word, but the girls were nodding.

"If you'll come with us, Mr. Loki." Angel began, adopting the Matron's mode of address.

"We can get started." Continued Haley.

The girls led him to a room filled with what Loki recognized as computers. They pulled up an additional chair for him, and after taking the seat he began to explain what he needed to them.

Haley began to search for what he was looking for. Angel looked thoughtful, and then spoke. "He'll need credibility. I think we need Flash."

"You're probably right." Haley agreed. She spared a moment from researching to send Flash a message.

Loki asked questions about what she was doing, and the girls explained about computers and the internet, information that Loki seemed to absorb like a sponge.

They hadn't quite finished the explanations when Flash showed up. He saw Loki, and heard them out regarding what they needed. He was inclined to resent another male in what he considered his territory, but was too excited by the plan to remain truculent for long.

"Wot you're really gonna' need, er, Mr. Loki, is a kick-arse car and a Posh Totty on yer arm." At Loki's blank stare-"Wot?"

"What in the name of Valhalla is a 'Posh Totty'?" Loki demanded.

Flash smirked at him, and sent a quick text. A few minutes later, Delilah, clearly one of the Posh Tottys sashayed into the room. Loki looked at her, eyes scanning her from top to bottom, and nodded his understanding.

"Delilah darling, our friend 'ere is going to Maxwell's and needs an in."

She tilted her blond head to the side, and blinked slowly. "All right, he's got the presence, but he'll still need reek of money to be able to get in there without a sponsor."

Loki considered what the girl said, stood up and transformed his clothes into a very fine black suit, with a pure silk shirt and tie. His shoes could only have been the finest Italian leather.

"Might I suggest that a linen shirt would work better?" Delilah offered.

Loki changed it, and allowed a princely sneer to cross his face. Delilah and Flash shared a look and said "Yeah," in unison.

Meanwhile, Angel and Haley exchanged a longing look and sighed.

"He'll need a stake, of course." Delilah said practically.

"Covered," Angel said. "Miss Fritton said whatever he needed."

"And we'll do a mock-up for him," Haley continued. "To familiarize him with the setup and games."

"Right, good," said Flash. "I'll work on a car, then and 'e'll be all set."

Things proceeded pretty much as planned. Angel and Haley got the mock-up organized. Loki had insanely quick wits and was beating the "house" 73% of the time without using magic. With magic, of course, he could beat it 100% of the time. The girls cautioned him against winning too often, that casinos could be quite unpleasant if they felt that the mark was cheating in some way.

Loki was aware of the Matron stopping by a few times, silently watching and then leaving just as quietly.

After the final session to acclimatize Loki, he, Flash, the Matron, and Delilah were having tea with Miss Fritton and her partner Geoffrey Thwaite.

Flash, trying to appear more comfortable with the dainty tea set than he truly was, spoke into the silence. "You know, it occurs to me, we could 'ave a lovely little gambling 'ell 'ere, Miss F."

"Oh no, dear boy." Miss Fritton replied in her high voice. "We tried that and found that there are those to whom even St. Trinian's should give wide berth." She then took a calm sip of her tea.

Loki cocked a curious eyebrow, aware that he was not the only one who would have liked to have heard more. However, nothing else was forthcoming. He met the Matron's eyes, and she gave a tiny shake of her head. She didn't know either.

It was Geoffrey who mentioned that Loki probably didn't know how to drive. So Flash took him out after tea to teach him the basics of driving. Of course, Loki picked it up very quickly, and was able to look quite natural behind the wheel. Two more lessons later and no one would have guessed that Loki was a new driver.

Finally, it was time. Loki stood in the foyer of St. Trinian's, waiting for Delilah, and being subjected to an inspection by Angel, Haley, the Matron, Miss Fritton and Flash.

Loki was once more dressed in a well cut black suit, deep green linen shirt, black silk tie, complementary silk scarf, black Italian leather shoes, and carrying an ebony walking stick with a silver knob on top. Matron Murgatroyd couldn't help but think that he looked like sex in smart tailoring.

"Wot's with the cane, mate?" Flash asked.

Loki's eyes narrowed at the familiar mode of address, and he pulled a sword from the walking stick with a "snick".

Angel and Haley whimpered in unison, while the Matron merely blinked rapidly at the sight.

Anything that Loki might have said was forestalled by Delilah's entrance. Loki had to admit, Delilah looked like the perfect accomplice for the venture. Her (green) dress was short without being too short, and she was showing just enough cleavage. In short, she looked like she belonged on a rich man's arm. He caught an odd expression on the Matron's face as she watched them get onto the poison green vintage Aston Martin that Flash had somehow managed to acquire for the night.

Wry, perhaps? Wistful would be nice, but Loki somehow doubted that. He shook it off as he handed Delilah into the car and then got behind the steering wheel.

The drive started off slow as Loki got used to the car, but soon they were zooming their way towards the casino. Loki couldn't help but mentally compare the way Delilah's hair was unmoving even with the wind rushing through it, and the Matron's perpetually untidy hair, loose tendrils forever escaping the bun.

Once again, he pushed thoughts of Matron Murgatroyd from his mind and focused on getting to the casino and what came after.

Getting into the casino was a lot easier that Loki had been led to believe. He pulled up to the entrance, eased himself out of the car, whilst the valet opened Delilah's door. He strolled to the doors, Delilah's hand firmly in his, gave the doorman a haughty look, and was in. No questions asked.

He walked down the sweeping staircase, aware of the many eyes upon them. He moved to the cashiers to exchange pounds for chips, and then to the Roulette Wheel. Looking bored, he placed his first bet. Delilah reminded him to lose a few times, then win a few, and move on to the cards, where he could really clean up.

All was going according to plan, Delilah reminding him to lose every once and a while, but overall, Loki was making a large profit. As Loki sat at the card table, Delilah stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders for "luck", drinking champagne, and whispering in his ear.

At one point, she excused herself to the ladies room, leaving Loki to –intentionally- lose three hands in a row, without his "good luck charm". As he was getting ready for his fourth hand, he realized that Delilah had not returned. He paused to locate her.

An unattractive older man, with a large waistline and florid face, has boxed her into a corner. Loki watched impassively, until the man grabbed her arm as she tried to move past him.

Loki froze. The girl was there with him, under his protection. Loki moved quickly to them, wrapped the hand not holding his cane around the man's throat and lifted him into the air. With a perfect arc, slammed him onto a nearby table. Loki brought the handle of his walking stick firmly to the man's trachea, his green eyes narrowed in fury. He hissed, "Mine."

The man nodded vigorously. Loki released him, and he scurried away. Loki looked coldly around the room, waiting to see if this would cause trouble. Surprisingly, no one blinked, and returned immediately to whatever their game of choice was.

"Are you well, Delilah?" He asked her.

"Yes, thank you, I – I'm fine." Her brown eyes were sincere. "Thank you."

"You are here under my protection. I shudder to think what the Matron would have said, had I allowed anything unfortunate to happen to you."

Delilah grinned. "Rather a good thing you avoided that."

"Indeed. Now, shall we finish?" He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully.

Loki and Delilah returned to their table, and Loki won the next several hands. He had a specific target in mind, and with Delilah's guidance was able to finally meet that goal.

They returned triumphantly to St. Trinian's. Loki thanked Delilah for her assistance, said goodnight and then climbed the stairs to the sickbay. He moved to the door that he knew led to Matron Murgatroyd's private quarters.

He quietly opened the door, and took a quick look around the dark room. His excellent night vision was able to make out most of the features of the room. It was smallish, with a desk, bookcase and a double bed, but not much more than that. As he took in the small figure on the bed, her eyes shot open, as if she realized that someone was there. She fumbled with the light next to her bed.

"Loki? What the…?" She sat up, her sheets falling to her waist. Her nightgown was modest, coming up quite high on her sternum, but Loki saw a puckered scar on her chest, just above her left breast. She saw where his gaze was and self-consciously pulled her sheet up to her throat. "May I ask why you are in my room?" She said with forced politeness.

"We won." He exulted, laying the pounds next to her on her bed.

"Of course, you won," she said in exasperation. "Was there any doubt?"

"No, but, here." He nudged the bills closer to her.

She raised her eyebrows at the amount of bills presented. "Exactly how much did you win?"

He smirked. "Eighty-*six* thousand pounds."

She was puzzled about his obviously delight in the amount, until it hit her. A thousand pounds more than she and her cohorts had acquired from a casino.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is going to be lovely."