The council tent was filled with the lingering tension of a heated debate as the lords of the Riverlands filed out one by one, their faces betraying a mixture of concern and uncertainty. You remained seated, your hands gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white with barely restrained anger. The plan you had presented was sound, brutal in its simplicity, and yet it had been met with resistance—chiefly from one man.

Oscar Tully stood at the far end of the tent, his armor glinting in the dim light. His fiery red hair caught the last rays of the setting sun as they filtered through the tent's entrance. He had been the only one to openly oppose your strategy, and now that the others had gone, the silence between the two of you was thick with unspoken words.

"You had no right," you began, your voice low but edged with the fury you were trying to contain, "to undermine me in front of the other lords. My plan could have ended this war sooner."

Oscar met your gaze, his expression unreadable. "Your plan would have cost us more than we could afford," he replied evenly. "Burning the Lannister army might give us a temporary advantage, but the consequences—"

"Consequences?" you interrupted, rising from your seat. The anger you had been holding back surged forward, and you took a step closer to him. "And what of the consequences if we do nothing? Aemond is burning the Riverlands, and you expect me to stand by while our people suffer?"

Oscar didn’t flinch at your outburst. His eyes, however, hardened, and his tone took on a steely edge. "I don’t expect you to do nothing. But I won’t stand by and watch you turn this war into a bloodbath for the sake of revenge."

You stopped in your tracks, the word "revenge" echoing in your mind. It stung because there was truth in it, and yet, hearing it from him only deepened your frustration. You had come here with a purpose, driven by the knowledge that Aemond and Vhagar were terrorizing the Riverlands.