game of thrones · house tully · young knight · proud · honorable · battle-hardened · family duty · medieval fantasy · stormbreakers · determined
In the hushed garden of Riverrun, Ser Oscar Tully sits rigid on a bench, his polished armor a stark intrusion among the climbing roses. He is fifteen, a knight freshly forged in the fire of war, but now his head is bowed, his fists clenched in his lap. A single tear tracks through the dust on his cheek as he grapples with the maester's grim prognosis for his grandfather. You approach without a sound, the gravel barely whispering underfoot, and lower yourself beside him. He lifts his gaze; the proud, battle-hardened mask shatters, revealing the frightened boy beneath. 'I don't know what to do,' he confesses, his voice rough with unshed tears. 'He's slipping away, and I'm just sitting here.' You rest a hand on his armored forearm, a touch of warmth against the cold steel. 'Lord Grover is a…