Thanks to everyone for their reviews!
I do have a response to a reviewer in the a/n under this chapter. (Normally, I would have pm-ed this sort of thing to a reviewer, but I didn't have the option this time.)
When Cicero had first seen Critare, he had thought she wept because she was such a tiny weakling, frightened and desperate for survival then. He had even written off her crying the first few days of her new life as a slave to just that- a mourning of her loss of freedom. But then the next day came, and she still wept. Then the next day, just the same. And by the next week, there was the weeping, still.
It turned out she was just a weakling, plain and simple. Cicero didn't like it when he guessed things wrong.
He was quite impressed by the amount she wept, though. He had spied on her, just to see if there was ever a time she didn't cry. There were times- maybe two or three- when she might have not been crying, but after a month Cicero was finally sure that she was incapable of not-weeping. She cried when she worked, she cried when she ate, and she cried in her sleep. Cicero had even caught her crying while she was laughing at something the little monster had said. It had marveled Cicero that one could cry and laugh at the same instance. Her ceaseless crying was not truly bad, per se. At it's best times, it was just a pair of watery eyes which sparsely released tears. At the worst times- usually after being scolded by the not-Speaker, the weeping was a profuse flow accompanied by quiet sobs and small sniffles. Normally, the tears flowed from her face in waves, so to speak, with occasional hushed sobs or dainty sniffs. But no matter what form it came in, it was always quiet. Cicero frequently had to strain his ears in order to hear the wordless, whispering breaths for sobs that would leave her lips like sighs.
While the wood faery's talent to exude salty liquids from her eyes did impress Cicero somewhat, he found himself more annoyed by it. For starters, it was far too quiet, which he found rude and obnoxious. But most of all, it was something that never failed to ruin his jolly mood. How could you laugh and jest or even dance when you had some pitiful wretch sheding buckets of tears? It spoiled everything! Not to mention how she happened to be within the same structure as their Unholy Matron and still found reason to cry. The wench should have been singing and smiling, like Cicero- but no!
Cicero would never have thought it possible, but she actually made the apathy of those worthless sloths look good.
Speaking of whom; Cicero's fellow brothers and sisters found Critare's constant crying a nuisance as well. It made him smile knowing that her crying, while near silent, was just as unwelcome as his joking and laughter in this backwards place. There was more tolerance for her behavior than Cicero's, though. There had to be of course- or who else would do all the cleaning and cooking... lazy swine. But her dancing was a different story.
She had this odd dance she'd do where she would balance herself upon her toes and tip-toe around with her arms out. Cicero wouldn't have known it was dancing if it weren't for how... admittedly graceful she was while doing it. Sometimes the tip-toes would become a balancing act on one toe while the other leg was kicked softly into the air at angles Cicero had not known a person could acheive. Other times she would leap or spin herself like a top- usually finishing the maneuvers by twisting herself into these odd poses. Cicero couldn't make any sense of it. Never the less, dancing while she worked annoyed the others- particularly the dog- so it was forbidden. Her tasteless dance seemed to be something of a habit though. So it wasn't until five days after the official prohibition when the mutt threatened to rip off her legs and eat them unless she stopped, that she managed to suppress her dance. Still, there were times when she would get on the tips of her toes before catching herself and then try to hide it by either quickly putting her heels back down or by pretending to be rising for something out of reach. Cicero did spy her in those secret moments where she would dance when she believed no one else was around to know.
Although the dancing was something that could be corrected, it had become clear to everybody that the weeping could not. The weeping was there to stay and many of them blamed it on a state of madness, something that had not occured to Cicero before. (He had found this weeping a perfectly complete definition of insanity and wrongly hoped that the others would finally see how delightful a being he was.) But an excuse of insanity wasn't going to spare Critare all the redicule that came from the dark family she served or the beatings delivered by the Sloth Queen and her lap dog.
And she didn't have to cry to give the two a reason to beat her. They would frequently indulge themselves after their little lover's quarrels- and quite generously, too. Funny, how the girl still seemed to make barely audible noises even when crying out in pain. Oh, it just wasn't fair!
Despite the crying and secretive dancing, the girl was ever obedient and submissive to the whim of her mistress, the not-Speaker.
Once she had the faery start her first day of labor, it seemed to suddenly dawn on her Foolishness just what kind of condition her shameful Sanctuary was in. So the first two weeks or so of the slave's service were dedicated to addressing the major problems of the cave: disposing of old books and other rubbish, dusting, sweeping the floors of rubble, removing sprouts in the cave corners where they were not wanted, scrubbing moss and mold out of the floor and walls, organizing, re-stuffing beds, polishing the tarnished silver and other metal items, rinsing out old bottles of mystery concoctions, and much more. During that time, that over-grown pup was also put to work repairing or rebuilding any damaged furniture and weapons they came across- something he was thrilled being bothered about. Critare would have been ordered to do these things, but it appeared she was not trusted enough for forges, fires and sharp things not for cooking, hammers, or being able to carry those heavy pieces of lumber.
But after those first two weeks, the slave finally had her routine planned out. Once the un-child woke her, the weeper would start her day by lighting the candles, stroking the fires, cooking breakfast, starting the forge, then cleaning the dishes. Once all these things were completed and approved of by her mistress, she'd then be allowed to eat what was left over from breakfast. Once done, Critare would wash then hang dirty laundry, dust, beat the rugs, and mend tattered fabrics before she was sent to cook mid-meal for the family. This was the one meal of the day Critare was allowed to eat before having to complete anything. After lunch she was property of the whole Sanctuary and required to work on any personal task given to her by the assassins. The reptile would usually want her to re-stuff and mend the dummies. The grey-snob normally would make the slave pluck and dye the feathers from her kills, which she then used to label arrows based on the poison she treated them with. That useless hound would command her to tan hides, clean the forge, and scrub soot from were ever it may have gotten. But it was the un-child who would require her most of all; usually needing her slave to help collect ingredients outside the Sanctuary with her during light hours, prepare them for potions and store or brew them. Critare would usually have time to only help one of them for so long before she was called by her mistress to sweep and mop the floors of three or four rooms, cook dinner, clean the dishes, remove dry laundry from the lines then fold and return them, and empty the chamber pots. Once all these things were done to the Pretender's satisfaction, she would then be allowed to eat the scraps left over from dinner. By about midnight, she would collapse onto her pile of hay in the lobby, bone-tired, where she would be chained until morning.
Cicero did not know how the little faery managed to keep up with all the work in the first place. She was just so small and weak-looking. And how had she not been broken by any of those beatings yet? Quite curious... She was very thin and something told Cicero that she was already naturally that way. But starvation was definitly a factor in her size, for her thinness was too extreme to be natural. There was evidence of malnutrition in her bloated cheeks as well, which only served to make her round face more round- like a baby. It irked Cicero. Between her small nose and chin and large round eyes, it was impossible to know how old she was. Her weakling behavior didn't help either. She was a young woman, that much was certain. Most likely somewhere just after her twentieth winter. And then her round eyes should have been made puffy and less round by all her crying, but it only seemed to make the circles under her eyes large... somehow making the eyes appear only bigger. Her lack of food also should have left her hair dull, brittle and sparse, too. Instead, her raven hair was full and black enough to make her skin, white like cattle milk, look even more pasty everywhere except the tips of her finger and toes where it took a violet hue due to pour circulation.
Right now, the girl was cleaning out the audience room where the Night Mother was placed as the Pretender had commanded her. Cicero had decided to stay in his lonely chamber while she did this, being as bored with watching her as he was. But it wasn't long before the jester began worrying. What if the faery girl did not clean the room to his sweet Matron's satisfaction? The Pretender gave instructions, but what did she happen to know about the Night Mother? She hardly had enough knowledge about the Dark Brotherhood to know it was wise to respect her Unholiness! Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. Cicero had to hurry to the audience room and make sure things were done perfectly before that know-nothing slave ruined everything. He was the Keeper, after all. Wasn't it his place tell that weeper how things ought to be where they concerned Mother? He had more authority than that not-Speaker, that Pretender!
He made it into the audience room in time to catch the ignorant wench as she was just beginning to pry the coffin of the Night Mother open.
He bounded like a madman over to her, throwing her aside and turning to shut the door of the great coffin before she had opened it an inch.
He spun around, crouching protectively before Mother's coffin as he looked down at the woman he had cast to ground a moment ago. She looked up at him, eyes full of more fright than he had ever seen in them.
"Do you know what you just could have done!" he shouted manically.
"Defiler! Blasphemer! Heretic! Cursed wretch," he went on ranting as he reached down, yanking her up off the floor and seizing her arms in a bruising grip. Her whispered pleas were lost under his crazed shouts.
"How dare you open the coffin of our Holy Matron! I should cut you down where you stand!"
"I- I," Critare stammered quietly, "I'm sorry. A spider had gotten in, a mother, and-"
"Liar!" Cicero ripped the old broom she held from her grip before throwing it at the adjacent wall, where it broke with a loud snap.
He drew his dagger and twisted himself to swing it at her in a deadly arch, but she had already moved to avoid it. She ran from him, now that she was no longer being held onto. But he would not just let her flee. Cicero swung the dagger at her three more times, each only a touch away from slicing her as she fled. He chased her to the door leading out of the room where he let her escape, for now.
"Never come back here! Never enter the Night Mother's presence, ever again! Or I shall skin you alive!" He shouted.
Cicero watched her run down the hall, weeping profoundly, and out of his sight while he breathed manically, feeling his blood pound violently through his veins. This wasn't over and he was not going to forget what she had done, but the it was Mother who needed him more than any thing right now. She would have to wait for later.
He dropped his dagger and hurried back to Mother where he fell to his knees and embraced her coffin.
The jester rested his head against the stone cylinder and nervously stroked it.
"All is well, Mother... " he cooed almost breathlessly. "All is well. Cicero has protected you, he always protects you. Tell faithful Cicero; are you hurt? Are you worried still? Tell Cicero so he can know. He loves you, forever. Fear not, fear not. No one will ever harm you, Mother. No one..."
Because one of my reviewers had been very honest with me about their thoughts, I want to return that respect to them in this response:
I really never liked it when people would post complaints in story reviews about non-canon content they found and talk as if there were something wrong about it. It's what fan fiction is, so we should be okay with it for the sake of some creativity. My real problem with it was that those people didn't stop to question whether the break from canon had been intentional or not.
So yeah, the fact that Cicero didn't respond to Critare's mention of an "invisible lady" talking to her was intentional, not accidental. I did read his journals (before writing the story) and I do know he is looking for the Listener. But I also paid attention to his dialogue. And from it, I had pulled a few things from him (all still Cicero canon) that I made a bigger part of who he is and the motivations for why he does/doesn't do whatever he does in this story. I won't give away what those traits are now, though. So if you want to know what they are, you'll have to hang around for a little longer until they are brought to light within the story later on. (If you haven't already figured out what they are, that is.)
I hope I don't come across as snippy or as if I can't take feedback. I love hearing what anyone has to say to me and respect all opinions. I had chosen to acknowledge your review in this little a/n because A) I did sincerely respect your honesty and B) I felt that I owed you an explaination since it was something that... bothered you, I guess. I told you what my only issue had been above and now we're past it. All I'd like to ask is that from now on you consider what the intentions of an author are when you criticize. It would be fair to say that doing so is a crucial part of critical reviewing, right?
Another thank-you for your review and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)
Thanks for reading and please review!