Chapter 6

It took him some time but eventually Osric indeed found a new source of willpower within himself after he had unbeknownst to Fenolis successfully managed to resist the pressure of his blood as more and more criticism was hammered into him. Perhaps the problem was simply that the children of the forest perceived and experienced things such as mental fatigue too differently from humans to understand how easily provoked they become in such a state. Or mayhaps she was just too old to care anymore, not that Osric had plans to breach that topic of age with her, as he was sure his mother wouldn't have approved of it.

Though it actually made him wonder if her description of his ancestor's willpower was connected to being neighbours with the children of the forest for generations if even just one of them had managed to get under his skin so easily. For despite his best efforts, Osric couldn't help but think that Fenolis was quite lucky that the weirwood she used was precious enough to keep his rising temper under control. A fact that would have surely changed if they stood face to face, and that all despite the fact that he actually found her quite likable, as her terrible sense of what he supposed was humour made her weirdly endearing.

Osric's nature was just as fierce as his father and the lords of the North had expected from the heir to Winterfell, of course only when his family wasn't around to soften him up, a fact that Osric took a great deal of pride in. But while she probably hadn't intended to be his first, Fenolis was probably the only being, ignoring his family, that had actually managed to get Osric's blood boiling without him suffering a loss of control from it, even if he was still left a little unsatisfied.

The prospect that he might actually be able to get himself under control by scraping together whatever willpower he could muster was honestly far more achievable than he had dared to hope after he had so often failed to keep himself together. For while he couldn't help but take pride in his nature that undeniably connected him to his House and the North, the fact that fierceness and strength alone wasn't enough to protect his family and the North had never failed to put Osric under pressure.

One could have even said that the death of his uncle Brandon had scarred Osric just as much as it had his father, even if Osric's outlook on life had managed to suppress a great deal of it. But neither the Warden of the North nor his son had the heart and mind to truly understand the madness that was visited upon their House, and with that lack of understanding came fear. Osric's uncle was in many ways just like him, a good heart in a strong chest, a man that was as powerful as he was impulsive in every way that mattered to the North, the ideal Warden.

The ideal Stark, just like Osric, though he supposed from his father's words that his uncle had little in the way of force with him in King's Landing as he rode for the Red Keep out of passion first and foremost. Perhaps things would have gone differently if he had waited for a proper escort of Northmen, or if he had simply requested a few more knights of House Tully before he was off. But while it would have taken just a few dozen more men to change the course of history, Osric nevertheless understood that he wouldn't be any less impulsive if one of his little sisters ever ended up kidnapped.

"Say, Fenolis, you said that I probably wouldn't want to see what happens with this dryad if I actually lose control of myself in the wrong situation, but could it be that you want to see that?"

"..."

"Ehm, can you repeat that, Osric?"

"Well, I'm apparently playing a decently sized part in whatever visions your people had, which as far as I can see is why you're offering me this new companion in the first place."

"But House Stark doesn't need strength, and if your people saw my death, it would be far easier to simply send a letter or something similar to my father to make sure that fate would be avoided, a dryad isn't needed to protect me."

"So with that in mind, the only thing this dryad could truly affect, after ignoring all the stuff you would be able to solve on your own if you truly wanted to, would be me and that willpower issue you had apparently observed for quite some time."

"You're pretty scary for a nine-year-old pup, you know that, Osric?"

"So you really planned to force me into improving my self-control by putting those dear to me in danger till I manage to do so, Fenolis?"

"You don't sound as angered as I imagined you to be from the accusation a moment ago, Starks usually don't take well to what one might see as a betrayal."

"Don't worry, I'm holding back plenty of anger for your attempt to deceive me, but since I know the risks involved I think it's still acceptable since I would never let any harm come to my family."

"There's as far as I can see no better way to ensure that I will successfully endure whatever life decides to throw my way, I do need to improve myself if I want to protect my family properly, I can't end up like uncle Brandon."

"Hmm."

Fenolis for her part only seemed bothered by Osric's words, as he supposed was natural for a being that might have lived for millennia, it probably wasn't the first time she heard a Stark say something like that. And since the Starks were their greatest allies for the last eight millennia, Osric correctly guessed that the aftertaste of being thought of as a deceiver by one of House Stark's heirs was far worse than she had anticipated. Though after a minute passed in silence, Fenolis once more managed to restore her composure before she proceeded without saying much of anything, which in itself said all that Osric needed to know to trust her for the moment.

It annoyed him quite a bit that he couldn't even guess how long she had watched him from the weirwood of her ancestors, but while Fenolis silently worked on the creation of his new companion, he supposed it was long enough to care. If it wasn't for the anger that still boiled beneath his skin, Osric would have liked to show a little more sympathy, since her goals were apparently good-natured and would help him to better protect his House and the North.

But even as he watched how the small dryad took form in front of him, surrounded by ancient trees as old as his House, he still failed to properly squash his anger no matter how much he tried. And it occurred to him a second later that this overconfidence in his willpower was probably going to be a problem once this dryad of his was finished and woke up. Especially since Osric had not the slightest intention of finding out how enraged his father would become if his new dryad actually destroyed what might be the oldest weirwood on their side of the Wall on instinct just to appease him.