This is a Loki/OC fic written for my friend Jenny, who turned 17 today!
Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of the Thor franchise, only the original characters I've created.
You Mewling Quim
Anyone would be more than slightly insulted if called a mewling quim. Jennette in particular was both repulsed and outraged, snarling at the young prince. Loki was turned away from her, unperturbed by her growing anger.
"You're a jackass, you know that?" she gritted out between her teeth, not even caring she was addressing a prince.
"Call me whatever you desire, but know you are still a part of my staff. Now if you have finished seething, the dining hall needs to be prepared for my name day feast," Loki told her, looking around with a bored expression. "And maybe this time, the steak will be cooked to my specifications." He turned and left the grand room, his emerald cape rippling with each step he took.
"I hate that guy!" Jennette hissed, glaring at the table as she cleaned it harshly with a rag. "All he ever does is whine about my 'incompetence in the culinary arts.' Well excuse me for cooking his steak to well done so he doesn't get E. coli!"
"You should not speak so rudely of the prince," her fellow kitchen hand Sarina commented, entering the hall from the kitchens. Her hair was long and golden in color, and her eyes were a soft shade of brown, similar to the many other residents of Asgard. Jennette on the other hand had dark hair, not quite as black as Prince Loki's, but enough to be considered unusual. Her purple eyes were a trait of Earth, or Midguard as the Asgardians called it, and made her feel quite out of place in her new home.
"He called me a mewling quim! What does that even mean?!" Jennette questioned, her mouth set in a frown. Sarina raised an eyebrow, staring at her friend oddly.
"Do you not use that term on Midguard? You are so upset with him and you do not even know what it means. Surely there is some kind of translation…" Sarina pulled out a modern pocket dictionary, gifted to her by Jennette to help with miscommunications. She flipped through the small book, her fingers stopping on the corner of a page. "I believe the prince has called you a 'whining cunt.'" Jennette turned beet red, slamming her fist on the table.
"I AM NOT A WHINING CUNT!" she fumed, scaring away a nearby maid. She supposed she would apologize to the maid later. What was her name? Hanna? "How dare he call me that?!"
"He is the prince. He can do whatever he dares, especially on his name day," Sarina replied simply. "Do not think too much of it. If anything, the prince must find you interesting. He has never spoken more than a word to the rest of the kitchen hands, or any hands for that matter."
"Well I suppose he finds me more irritating than the rest of you," Jennette grumbled. "Because on Ea—Midguard, we don't appreciate being insulted."
"You and your silly 'contractions,'" Sarina laughed, shaking her head. "I do not understand why you Midguardians combine your words. Is it not confusing?" Jennette groaned and nearly slammed her head on the long wooden table.
"You know what? Just forget it. I'm going to check on the pies." Jennette exited the room, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair.
She had been living in Asgard for almost a year now, having been an associate of Jane Foster. She had lost her family, her job—everything that meant anything to her. Jane had mentioned Jennette's predicament to Thor, who offered her home and a chance to start anew in his realm. Of course she accepted, more than thrilled to be working for the great and legendary God of Thunder. She just wasn't aware that her job would include daily criticism from his little brother.
She was distracted as she walked through the kitchen, stumbling on a misplaced bucket. She splayed her hands out to grab onto the table as she fell, but found that there was no need when she felt an invisible force push her back upright. She looked around confusedly, seeing none of the kitchen hands paying her any mind. She had to admit that she was slightly spooked, but shook it off as she checked on the many cakes and pies baking in the ovens.
Loki wasn't sure why he found Jennette interesting—he had never found Jane Foster interesting, and she was from Midguard as well. It wasn't that her looks were particularly captivating either. Jennette was of average height and of average build, with average Midguardian looks. She had the potential to be a boring woman, but somehow she wasn't. He enjoyed their little banters, no matter how irritated she got with him. The rest of the palace staff was much too scared of him to be of any interest, so he didn't even bother communicating with them.
She was intelligent, that he knew. He had once heard her speak of calculus, which was something that puzzled most Midguardians, but Jennette seemed to strangely enjoy it. He supposed she was a scholar in her realm and wondered if she felt that her job now was a demotion. Surely not, working in the palace.
He made himself invisible in the kitchens, purposefully causing havoc as he knocked over various buckets onto the ground. The staff members fell over one by one, one man clumsily holding onto the table as his face was pressed into a large bowl of meat pie. Loki grinned, knowing he couldn't be seen by the kitchen hands, and moved on to another sector of the kitchens. He was surprised to see Jennette out of the dining hall and watched curiously as she seemed to be deep in thought. There was a fallen bucket in her path and she tripped as he expected, but he somehow found himself there to set her upright. He quickly retreated and left the kitchen quietly, not wanting to be discovered.
Seven hours later, the dining hall was bustling with warriors and maidens, each approaching Prince Loki with their heads bowed to wish him a happy name day. Jennette was dressed in her nicest attire, a dark purple dress with a long sash that wrapped around her. She had been given the night off to enjoy the festivities, as she had been on duty during Thor's name day. She wasn't hungry, having eaten already, and advanced to the front of the room where Loki stood. Even if she didn't like him, she knew it was tradition to greet him. She curtsied, bowing her head down as she approached him.
"Happy name day, Prince Loki. I wish many more upon you," she stated as rehearsed. She wondered how many times he must've heard that line, but didn't bother to ask. He dipped his head slightly in thanks and she took this as her cue to leave. She was more than shocked when he held his hand out to her.
"Lady Jennette, will you join me for the first dance of the evening?" Loki asked, his expression surprisingly pleasant. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what game he was playing at.
"Well I'm certainly not a lady, but I suppose," Jennette replied, cautious as she took his hand. His hand engulfed hers but was nonetheless slender and smooth, with no callouses like Thor's from wielding Mjolnir. She felt self-conscious as the guests opened a path for them, and momentarily forgot her hate for the irritating prince. "Don't you want to dance with someone else? I mean, I'm just a kitchen hand, you know."
"Are you refusing a dance with me? On my name day? How cruel," Loki commented, though he continued to move them to the center of the clearing.
"No, it's not that," Jennette added quickly. "It's just… Wouldn't you rather dance with Lady Sigyn?" she wondered, nodding to the woman who was ever hoping Loki would attempt to court her. Loki looked to Sigyn and rolled his eyes.
"She is much too clingy and will mistake a dance request as a marriage proposal," Loki told her simply. Jennette couldn't help but agree.
"Well you can believe that I certainly do not wish to marry you," Jennette spoke, her hand going to his shoulder as the dance began.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he remarked, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. The corners of her mouth rose as she looked up at him in astonishment.
"Did you just use a contraction?" she inquired, her voice filled with amazement. "Looks like I'm rubbing off on you."
"Indeed you are, to my dismay," he responded, his hand finding her waist as they danced to the string orchestra's melodious tunes. There were no more words spoken between them as they danced, their bodies orbiting around each other. The dance ended much too quickly for her liking, and she mentally scolded herself for admitting it as he bowed and she curtsied in goodbye.
She found herself sneaking glances at Prince Loki the rest of the night, watching as he made small talk with Asgardian diplomats. She knew he would rather do anything but, judging by the way he would quickly go back over to Frigga when he had an opening.
"Are you enjoying yourself here in Asgard?" an unmistakable voice called. She turned to see Thor heading towards her and bowed her head respectfully.
"Yes I am, thank you," she informed him. "The people here are kind and I've made many friends with the staff."
"You do not have to be a kitchen hand," he reminded her. "Any friend of Jane's is a friend of mine, and I will not have you tirelessly working if you do not wish it." Jennette shook her head.
"It's fine, Prince Thor, really. I'd feel bad if I didn't do some kind of work at the palace, and I'd be bored to be honest," she added, blushing. A smile broke on Thor's face as he gave a hearty laugh.
"Of course, Lady Jennette. Well do enjoy the rest of your evening. I will be retiring now," Thor said, bidding her goodbye. She felt a hand on her shoulder and didn't have to turn around to know it was Loki.
"What was he talking to you about?" Loki questioned.
"Ask him yourself—He's your brother, isn't he?" Jennette replied before shaking her head. "Forgive me, that was rude." Loki scoffed.
"When have you ever cared about being rude to me? It should not matter whether we are in a public setting or not—I expect to be yelled at for being 'a jackass,'" he told her. She crossed her arms.
"Alright then. I happen to think you're a complete jackass," she said with a nod.
"And I 'happen to think' you are an incredible dancer," Loki expressed, making her look up at him in wonder.
And she thought to herself, maybe Loki wasn't that bad after all. He was just misunderstood and feared by so many people. And maybe even he wanted a friend, or—
"For a mewling quim, of course."
He's a complete jackass.