Author Note: Well, guess who? Yep, I decided to do another Cicero fic, one continuing from 'Song to the Night Mother'. This one will jump between Cicero's journal entries and a third person narrative of what actually happens.
I hope you like it, guys!
Moooooother! Guess who is back! Did you guess Cicero? Did you? Well, done, Mother, very well done! Do not fear, Mother, this is not Cicero writing from the grave, with rotted flesh and the stench of death hanging from me. A quill in my bony hand, skin hanging from it. No, no, no. This is Cicero alive, alive and well! You must be so surprised. Cicero is surprised, too! No, I am not prancing around by your side, dear Mother, but better! Better! Cicero accompanies his darling Listener, the Queen who took pity on the poor Fool. This disease of love kept me alive, Mother! Fascinating, fascinating! Cicero was not condemned to the silence and cold of death, no, no! But the warmth of life! My Listener wrapped her tender arms around her Fool and let him live. Why, dear Mother? For love! For love! She spared me, the gentle Fool, because her heart screamed with vicious love!
Oh, Mother, I know you are pleased. Proud. Honoured. This life is a gift! A present! An offering! A blessing that Cicero needs to take with both hands and devour. Worry not, Mother, worry not! Fear not, cry not, weep not. Cicero is happy. The Listener and her Fool shall restore the Brotherhood to it's former glory. The fear of murder and its pawns shall reign once more!
The laughter has faded much so now, Mother. It is now simply a tinkling giggle that sounds at the back of the Fool's twisted mind. Twisted like yarn. Twisted like the head of the chicken we cooked for dinner. Dinner, Mother! We travel so. Walking. Walking up mountains, through streams, walking through towns. No! She walks, I dance! I stride. I strut. But together! Always together. And there are times when we set up camp. At night. Yes, yes. At night, when the sky is spattered with a handful of stars. Her fingers will seek me out, probing gently, and I once more make her my Queen. Lucky, lucky, lucky Cicero is! He has a Listener! With eyes like the blazing silver stars themselves. Stars that laugh! Stars that sing!
Hm. Mother. Cicero is content, yes, yes. But Cicero wonders. What if Cicero were to become a vampire? Then he and the Listener would be bound in blood forever, yes? Yes! Splendid! Wonderful! Imagine the blood we'd spill as our dark mouths find each other and sink our bestial teeth into flesh. Cicero shivers at the thought. Children, Mother? Cicero craves them. The Fool's own legacy, Mother! Children to spread pain and malice and decay as if they were born from it! Perfectly crafted in your image, Mother, they would be. Imagine! Imagine! I shall! Cicero shall. He will, Mother, provide you will children. Perhaps these you shall keep safe, and not offer to Sithis. Keep them alive, Mother, help them grow; mould them into the epitome of slaughter! Such unholy grandeur, Mother!
Ahhh. Hot breath on Cicero's neck. She calls for me, Mother. She calls for her Fool. Cicero needs your help, Mother. Help me create daughters of death, sons of sin, children of cacophony.
For Cicero loves you, and we shall rule the land.
In other words, he's about to go and do it. -Snicker-
Stay tuned, my honeys, and please read and review!