Viserys slowly straightened, his cold gaze passing over the heads of every representative of the Reach's houses present. "The remnants of the Ironborn are hardly a threat now. All they can do is burn a few houses under cover of darkness, or at most steal a few shiploads of grain. Once the wind and waves settle a little, they hide away in those caves among the reefs."
"But the dead will not retreat. When they cross the Wall and pass the Neck, they will not take a detour because of how many soldiers you have left guarding the Reach's coast. Nor will they care whether the Reach has been raided. When that time comes, I doubt a single one of you will be left alive."
His voice held no trace of inflection, yet everyone in the hall felt as though they had fallen into an ice cellar in the North. Margaery's fingertips pressed unconsciously against the hem of her skirt.
She had no intention of speaking. One look at that familiar expression in Viserys's eyes, the one that said he would leave nothing unsaid and allow no room for maneuver, told her that whoever dared speak first would surely come to a bad end.
Viserys did not force the knight from House Costayne to answer, either. He simply continued, "So stop using the Ironborn as an excuse. Once you have truly seen the dead emerge from the snowy mist, you will understand that my discussing this calmly with you here is already the last shred of dignity I am leaving the Reach."
"Of course, as I said before, the remnants of the Iron Islands will not become a threat, because my main purpose in coming here is to help you wipe out the Ironborn hiding among the offshore reefs. These