Game of thrones: the Sunblode rise

Chapter 16: Fractures in Unity

The Riverlands were alive with activity as banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the arrival of lords great and small to Riverrun. The meeting, dubbed the "Riverland Accord," was Lord Hoster Tully's attempt to unite his vassals against the Ironborn threat. Yet, as Ivar rode toward the castle with his retinue, he felt the tension hanging over the land like an oppressive fog.

Beside him, Timothy Sunrise adjusted his reins, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead. "Every lord here is either plotting, scheming, or looking to stab someone in the back," he said, his tone light but edged with truth.

"They're all scheming," Ivar replied, his voice low. "The question is who's the most dangerous."

Timothy smirked. "You're betting on the Freys?"

Ivar's gaze flicked to the horizon, where the towers of Riverrun loomed over the riverbanks. "Always. Walder Frey doesn't know loyalty. He knows leverage."

As they approached the castle, the party slowed. Lords and their entourages crowded the courtyard, their banners a riot of color. Ivar dismounted, handing the reins to a stablehand as he surveyed the scene. Lords clustered in groups, their conversations quiet but tense.

To the right, Tytos Blackwood stood near the gate, his dark eyes fixed on Jonos Bracken, who was speaking loudly with his retainers. The two men didn't acknowledge each other, their shared animosity a palpable force in the air.

"They're going to explode before we even start," Timothy muttered, nodding toward the feuding lords.

Ivar's expression was unreadable as he strode past them. "Let them. Their bickering serves my purpose."

Inside Riverrun's great hall, the table had been set for the gathering. Hoster Tully sat at its head, his aged face calm but stern. Beside him was his son, Edmure, his youthful eagerness betrayed by the way his eyes darted around the room. Brynden "Blackfish" Tully stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, his sharp gaze observing every detail.

As Ivar entered, whispers rippled through the hall.

"That's Sunblode…"

"Burned the Ironborn ships, they say…"

"Ruthless, I've heard…"

Timothy leaned close, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're a celebrity."

"Celebrity or threat," Ivar murmured, taking his seat. "Either will do."

The meeting began with Hoster calling for unity. "The Ironborn raids grow bolder. They strike our coasts, burn our villages, and carry our people away as thralls. If we do not stand together, we will fall one by one."

The lords murmured their agreement, but their body language told a different story. Jonos Bracken was the first to speak, his tone sharp.

"The Ironborn are a scourge," he said, slamming his fist on the table. "But how can we trust the Blackwoods to hold their borders when they can't even keep their blades sheathed?"

Tytos Blackwood bristled, his voice cold. "Perhaps if your men weren't raiding villages under the guise of border patrols, there'd be fewer blades drawn."

"Lies!" Jonos snapped, rising to his feet.

"Enough!" Hoster's voice cut through the hall, silencing the bickering lords. "This council is about the Ironborn, not your petty grievances."

Ivar sat back, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. He watched as the lords exchanged glares, their alliances tenuous at best.

"These men can barely share a room," he thought. "How does Hoster expect them to share a strategy?"

Brynden Blackfish, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. "The Ironborn won't wait for us to settle our squabbles. If we don't act soon, they'll overrun our coasts. We need a fleet to defend the rivers and a coordinated force to drive them out."

Walder Frey leaned forward, his expression sly. "And who will pay for this fleet? Riverrun? Or shall we all shoulder the burden equally?"

Hoster frowned. "If we are to succeed, we must share the cost and the responsibility. This is a Riverlands matter, and we all stand to benefit."

"Easy for you to say," Walder retorted. "You sit here in your fortress while the rest of us bleed."

Timothy smirked, leaning toward Ivar. "He's charming as ever."

Ivar didn't respond, his mind working as he observed the exchanges.

Jonos Bracken interrupted, his voice booming. "Enough talk of fleets. What about the villages already burning? What about the people the Ironborn have taken? We need swords, not ships."

"And where do you propose we station these swords?" Tytos shot back. "On your lands? Or perhaps in my forests, so your men can continue their raids while we fight the real enemy?"

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices, the lords talking over one another in a display of disunity.

Lysa, seated beside Timothy, leaned close and whispered, "If this continues, they'll be at each other's throats by nightfall."

"They'll talk in circles forever," Timothy muttered. "Unless someone forces the issue."

Ivar stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. The room fell silent as every eye turned to him.

"Enough." His voice was calm but carried an undeniable weight. "This council was called to address the Ironborn threat. If we can't even agree on a course of action, we may as well hand them our lands and be done with it."

He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the room. "The Ironborn thrive because they strike fast and disappear before we can respond. We can't defend the entire coast, but we can fortify key points. Riverrun, Seagard, and Sunblode Isle can serve as strongholds, with fleets patrolling the rivers and soldiers stationed to respond to raids."

"And who commands these fleets and soldiers?" Walder Frey asked, his tone challenging. "You?"

Ivar met his gaze evenly. "No one commands alone. This must be a united effort. But unity requires trust, and trust requires action. Lord Tully is right: we must share the burden. House Sunblode will commit resources—ships, soldiers, and supplies. I expect the rest of you to do the same."

Jonos snorted. "Easy for you to promise when you're sitting safe on an island."

"Safe?" Ivar said, his voice sharp. "Tell that to the Ironborn raiders who thought Sunblode Isle was an easy target. Their ships are ash, and their bones lie in the sand."

The room fell silent.

"I have proven my commitment to the Riverlands," Ivar continued. "Can any of you say the same?"

Brynden Blackfish's lips quirked into a faint smile. "He's got a point."

Hoster rose to his feet, his voice carrying the authority of his station. "Lord Sunblode speaks wisely. If we are to survive, we must act together. Let us formalize this accord and begin preparations immediately."

The lords exchanged glances, their reluctance evident. But one by one, they nodded their agreement.

As the meeting adjourned, Ivar lingered near the fireplace, watching as the lords filed out. Timothy joined him, a sly grin on his face.

"You certainly know how to steal a room," Timothy said.

"It's not about stealing the room," Ivar replied, his gaze distant. "It's about planting seeds. Let them think this accord is their idea. When it succeeds, they'll look to us. And if it fails, we'll be there to pick up the pieces."

Later that night, Ivar met with his council in a private chamber. The fire crackled in the hearth as Lysa spread out a fresh map of the Riverlands.

"Do you think the lords will follow through?" Roland asked, his arms crossed.

"They'll grumble, but they'll comply," Ivar said. "None of them want to be the first to defy the accord."

"And the Freys?" Timothy asked.

"They'll test us," Ivar said. "But I want agents embedded in the Twins. If Walder makes a move, I want to know about it before he does."

Lysa nodded. "Consider it done."

"What about the Blackwoods and Brackens?" Duncan Greenfield asked. "Their feud is far from over."

"It doesn't need to be over," Ivar said. "As long as they don't turn their swords on each other, we can manage their rivalry. Let them compete for our favor—it keeps them focused on us instead of each other."

Timothy chuckled. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ivar."

"It's the only game worth playing," Ivar replied.

As dawn broke over Riverrun, Ivar stood on the castle's battlements, gazing out at the river below. The Riverland Accord was a fragile thing, but it was a start. The lords were united, for now, and the Ironborn would face a coordinated resistance.

But Ivar knew this was only the beginning. The Riverlands were a patchwork of ambition and grudges, and it would take more than words to weave them into a true power.

He turned as Timothy approached, his cloak billowing in the morning breeze.

"Ready to leave?" Timothy asked.

"Not yet," Ivar said, his gaze distant. "The pieces are on the board, but the game is far from over."