Godchild: Getting Settled
Title: Getting Settled
Fandom: Count Cain/Godchild
Word Count: 1,018.
Rating: G
Summary: Merriweather's not the only one new to this.
Warnings: Mild spoilers for Riff's backstory.
Disclaimer: Count Cain and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Yuki Kaori-sensei. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others.
Author's Notes: Written for the April 14 prompt at 31_days - "wrong with a capital 'r'".
“Riff! Riff - uh, Mr. Raffit? Mr. Riff?”
Riff turned at the unusual address, one pale eyebrow raised questioningly as he tried to place the vaguely familiar voice. He barely had time to remember - ah, yes, Miss Merriweather - before the small shape ploughed into his legs. He muffled his grunt of surprise as he staggered, barely catching himself with one hand on the wall before the girl had untangled herself and then darted to hide behind him. After a few moments of bewildered silence, her head peeped out from his legs and she blinked large blue eyes up at him. “Miss Merriweather?” he prompted, grasping at any last shreds of calm left to him and somehow managing to keep his face impassive.
“The tutor isn’t following me, is she?” came the whispered reply.
Riff glanced up. The hallway was empty and silent. “No, miss.”
The girl sighed and sat on the floor without the slightest hint of grace. She pulled her knees up to her chest and folded her arms around them tightly; the paper she clutched in one hand fluttered as she sighed again, looking up at him through her messy bangs. “I can’t spell,” she confided in a soft, miserable voice. “Brother’s going to be ever so displeased with me, and the tutor will beat me.”
Riff’s eyes widened. “She won’t beat you, miss,” he disagreed, dropping to one knee so he could speak with her more easily. Lord Cain would have her head if she as much as thought it. “Why would you think that?”
She seemed to shrink into herself even further, if possible. “Won’t she? Isn’t that what tutors do?”
“Not ones that expect to be paid,” Riff answered wryly. Though I know some of his lordship’s certainly wished they could.
Much to his surprise, his attempt at soothing her had the complete opposite effect: she wailed and dropped her head into her knees.
“Miss!” he exclaimed, startled. His hands hovered uncertainly around her bowed head, instinctively wishing to comfort and doubting whether it would be accepted.
“I can’t do this, Mr. Raf-Mr. Ri-I don’t even know what I’m supposed to call you! I can’t be a lady, Brother should have left me on the streets, at least I know who I am there!”
“I - Miss Merriweather…”
She blew her nose messily onto her lace-fringed dress; Riff winced. “And don’t call me that! Nobody calls me Merriweather, it’s a stupid long name. And I - oh, no!” she gasped as if just realizing what she’d done. She stared from her ruined sleeve to his face, which must have looked peculiar as he fought not to show his amusement. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Raffit! I am, really, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here!”
“You can call me Riff, Miss Merry - do you mind if I call you that? Only I’ll have to keep saying ‘Miss’ - I am your servant.” He plucked two handkerchiefs from his suit pocket - he’d taken to carrying more than one after too many outings with the earl had led to set after set of ruined gloves - wiping her damp cheeks with the one and instructing her to blow into the other. She did so and he tucked the pair of them away neatly.
“You’re Brother’s servant,” she muttered rebelliously. “And it’s easy for you, you know how all of this-” her look around the hallway worked to encompass the entire estate as well as her brother’s title “-works. You’re the perfect butler.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Miss Merry,” he dryly replied, “but I had to work to become so. You’re not the only one who wasn’t born into this.”
Her arms loosened the death grip she’d had on her legs. “Really? But you know everything!”
He let a small smile slip across his lips. “I first came to work for the master when he was your age.” Lord Cain had actually been slightly older, but equivocations would not help Miss Merry feel better. “Before that, I was studying medicine. My family wasn’t wealthy, but we were well off enough to afford my schooling.” She was openly gaping at him now, clearly involved in the story. “There was an accident, and my family were all killed. All of our money was lost, and I had to abandon my studies and come to work. I was lucky enough to find Lord Cain, and he had to be very patient with me while I learned my duties. As he will be with you, miss,” he added, straightening. He held out one hand to her and, after a moment’s hesitation, she took it, and he lifted her to her feet. She was as light as the dolls his master showered upon her.
“If you say so,” she said, but a sparkle was returning to her eyes. “And you can just call me Merry!”
“I don’t believe I can, miss,” he answered pointedly.
She pouted, but mischief still glimmered in her eyes. For the first time, Riff could truly believe she was Lord Cain’s sister. “Then can you correct my spelling?” she asked, obviously fighting back a laugh.
“If you would like me to,” he answered gravely. She gestured for him to come closer and he bowed obediently.
“Thank you, Riff,” she whispered into his ear - and, much to his surprise, hugged him violently around the neck.
“Of course, Miss Merry.” He took the paper with one hand and began to look it over as they walked down the hallway, disregarding the way she grabbed at his empty hand and swung it back and forth in her own. “Ah, ‘wrong’ actually has a ‘w’ at the beginning of it, miss, and you probably should not say such things about your tutor. She might take them amiss.”
Miss Merry gave him a quietly innocent look as she swung from his hand. “But I said it to Brother and he thought it was funny!”
Riff sighed as he recalled how many tutors his master had chased away before they’d stopped hiring them. “I'm sure he did, miss.”
END