Broadcast Game of Thrones: The White Gaze

Three days into a knife wound gone black with rot, in a forgotten cellar of a castle held by the Bloody Mummers, a maester without a chain has maybe a night left before the fever wins. Then his own blood-puddle goes still, bone-cold like frost answering a bad tooth, and prints two faces over his dying body: his own, and one the weirwood net has never recorded. Every mirror, every washbasin, every cup of wine after that becomes a courtroom he cannot control, naming stolen silver and hidden bloodlines, printing his own foreign anomaly right alongside them. He breaks that first reading with his own hand before Lannister envoys or a hidden Bolton scout can finish it. The Gaze that exposes every hidden thing across Westeros turns on him too, and each secret it forces into daylight costs a named piece of the man he was before Harrenhal. He already knows things worth burning the Seven Kingdoms down for: a boy who isn't the king he's called, a wolf pup's true name, and he is spending nothing yet, saving them like knives kept sheathed.