AN: Hey Everyone! This is darknessversuslight's (from deviantart) 100 prompt writing challenge. These are going to obviously be short by nature, since they're just supposed to be snippets, hence the title "Puzzle Pieces." Also, these are not connected. They are just instances in the relationship, not necessarily in sequential order or super canon, but enjoy anyway!
All will, however, focus on the Cain/Riff pairing.
"What's the master's son's name?" Riff had anxiously awaited a momentary break in the chattering maids' gossip to insert his inquiry. The women abruptly turned to him, surprised at his curiosity or the novel sound of his voice in the kitchen.
"Why, you must mean little master Cain. I rather pity the poor child. What, with his father's accident, he's the rightful heir to the earldom," said a woman with greying temples as she swirled a wooden spoon around mindlessly.
"Everyone knows that the Hargreaves family's bloodline is cursed beyond redemption. Cain is to inherit a title of misfortune and unhappiness," another commented while stacking high porcelain plates.
"But, he's only a child," Riff objected thoughtfully, assembling the last ornaments of his platter. "Surely his destiny cannot be so wretched. He has yet to make it."
"You are right. One can hope for the best," a young, spritely maid concurred as her skirt rustled to the sink. Taking the silver tray into both of his hands, he smiled politely as he dipped out of the kitchen. Though he had been robust before, his recent illness had left him a bit lackluster in strength and balance. He put his full focus into his maneuvering the tray into the parlor, setting it at the side of a mustachioed Hargreaves' relative, and swiftly exiting the room. It was a skill, Riff had noticed in his few experiences of work, to come into a space and then leave without being noticed. Be fluid and swift, make sure the teacups and saucers did not rattle, and look at no one.
Don't talk to the master's son, he had been commanded. But, when he came across the boy, just the day after he had held him so tightly in his arms, after he had wiped away his tears with his handkerchief and bare hands, and whispered fragments and phrases he could not remember into his silky black hair, he could not pass without softly calling, "Master Cain."
The boy peered up, looking terrified to be found yet again by the servant who wasn't supposed to know he existed.
"I never told you… my name is Riff. Please allow me to serve you in any way." And the boy who hatched peeped out from his shell with a fracture of a golden grin.