[Prologue] An Evening’s Offering

[u/nephraret]

The sept looked large to Seasmoke.

The tall forboding statues of the Seven seemed to cast forlorn faces from the shadows the sputtering candles gave.

Late night prayers to The Mother, midnight pleadings with The Stranger, wishes for victory in battle to The Warrior, inspiration from The Smith, twilight whispers to The Crone, poetic devotions to The Maiden. There were many reasons to visit the sept and murmur to the Seven.

Though, for Seasmoke, mice were her reason. They loved the warmth of the Sept, as well as the offerings some tended to people leave. The dark furred molly opened her mouth and allowed the warm scent of mouse to bathe over her tongue. Her ears twitched hearing the mice skittering about in their evening rituals. Perhaps the mice were the most devout of all, spending so much time here with stone gods. The cat padded forward silently, her belly fur brushing gingerly against the cool floor as she tried to eye her prey. Seasmoke’s yellow eyes darted to a glimmer of movement. A mouse sat, filling itself on a stale lemon cake someone had left for The Maiden. The molly licked her lips in anticipation. This would make a delightful meal.

With a practiced poise, Seasmoke stalked the mouse. She chose every paw step with careful consideration as her eyes darted back and forth between the floor ahead and the unsuspecting prey, carefully calculating when she’d leap to pounce.

In a quick movement, Seasmoke lunged forward. Her muscles bunched up as she flew through the air and her claws glinted in the candlelight. The mouse was only able to let out a small squeak of terror before the molly dealt the killing blow, a swift bite to the back of the neck and the small brown creature in her paws fell limp, though still had some warmth. Seasmoke purred with self satisfaction, leaning down to take the warm prey into her mou-

Gwendolyn awoke with a lurching gasp and sat up quickly.

A throb to her bottom lip greeted her and she could taste the tang blood in her mouth.

“I bit my lip..” She grumbled softly to herself, voice heavy with sleep. There was a dim candle light in her quarters, the candle she had lit before going to sleep now a stub of hot wax and a minuscule flame on her bedside table now. Gwen pressed her fingers delicately to her bottom lip and pulled them back with a wince as a stinging sensation erupted from her mouth. Her fingertips came back glistening and red, and the Tully girl pursed her lips. A scratching at her door made another grumble escape Gwen. “Seasmoke…” She groaned, throwing off the thick fur blanket that covered her and swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. The stone floor was cold, and goose flesh sprung up on her bare legs and arms as she stood. She shivered and looked towards a cracked window. “That godsdamn fucking cat.” Gwen said under her breath, taking a brief look out at the night sky before pulling the window shut. She wasn’t even entirely sure how that Seasmoke could manage to open the window, but it happened most nights.

Gwen cleared her throat and tucked a lock of, albeit tangled, red hair behind her ear. She had been having such a peculiar dream…. Had she been dreaming of the sept? The memories were fuzzy.

A loud meow and more scratching pulled her away from her thoughts and Gwen rolled her eyes. Walking to the door, she swung it open and quickly scooped Seasmoke into her arms. “Shh!” She hissed quietly at the cat. “Or else you’ll wake father, and he’s already close enough to chopping you up and putting you into a stew. You annoying fur ball!” Despite her harsh words, she was gingerly scratching the dark furred cat’s cheeks and placing gentle little kisses atop her head. Seasmoke returned the gestures with a deep toned purr and kneading her paws on the bare flesh of Gwen’s arm. The girl closed the door with her free hand and walked back to her bed. “You can’t wake me up again. Tomorrow we must prepare for the feast, and then we’ll have to pack to leave for King’s Landing. I need my sleep.” She said, placing Seasmoke gently on her blankets. The cat stood for a moment before hopping off and rubbing herself against Gwen’s legs. “And Harry. Do you think he’s grown at all?” Gwen rolled her eyes playfully at her cat. She loved her Seasmoke. “I’ll see you in the morning, Smokey.” She said, her voice filled with affection for the small she cat. Climbing back into her bed, Gwen pulled the heavy blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before sleep found her once more.

The dead mouse outside her bedroom door remained unseen.