Back in Meereen, Asher and Beskha were walking down the street until they heard chanting in the distance and approached what seemed to be a fighting pit.

"This looks like the place." Asher said.

Beskha chuckled. "This is definitely the place."

"So, who are we dealing with exactly?" Asher asked as he turned to Beskha, who frowned at the dreadful memory.

"Pit fighters…" Beskha made gestures as she began explaining to Asher how it goes. "Two go in, one comes out, day after day. No rules but "kill."" She looked at Asher in worry. She rarely worried about him, which made it clear how dangerous it was. "Anyone who can survive that is capable of anything." She then frowned in disgust upon glancing at the fighting pit. "They're crazed savages. But one pit fighter is worth any ten sellswords." They approached the door. "If you can convince them to fight for you. And that's not going to be easy. Don't expect to charm them, or reason with them." She gave him a worried look. "If we're very lucky, we'll walk out with our heads."

Asher shrugged. "You were a pit fighter. If they're anything like you, we'll be just fine."

Beskha shook her head, her worried look intensified. "Understand, they are nothing like me." She touched the handle of the door. "These aren't soldiers. They're animals you unleash."

When Beskha opened the door, Asher could smell the blood as corpses of the slaves were scattered across the floor and cheers echoed from the room. Clearly, the former slaves were more than happy to overthrow their former Masters. Asher then saw two fighters emerging from a corridor, one of them stabbing the other one to death, much to Asher's shock but Beskha warned him not to get himself involved.

Asher also noticed severed heads on a nearby drawer and he felt a chill go down his spine. Beskha wasn't kidding. They were animals. Asher shivered, hoping his head would stay attached to his neck. As they saw a huge muscular man drop a dead body at their feet, Beskha turned to Asher. "Oh, one last thing: they're not fond of strangers. Or anyone who shows weakness. Or fear." She then smirked at Asher. "Or really any highborn pricks with lily-white asses like you, little brother."

Asher figured as much. He had faced similar kinds of savages before. "I can handle this."

Beskha shrugged and mockingly gestured towards the big man. "After you, then."

The big man turned and noticed Beskha as his eyes narrowed, while he descended down from the steps. "Well, if it isn't Beskha the fucking Basilisk?"

Beskha the Basilisk? Asher wondered what was the story behind it.

Beskha sighed. "We just want to talk to Amaya."

The big man glared at Asher. "You don't want to be here, little man. You best go back the way you came, before I decide to eat you. I'll start with your eyeballs — fucking juicy when they pop." He then clenched his fists as he raised them. "And then I'll pull out your little bones to pick my teeth."

Asher glared at the man. "You think I'm scared of you?" He took a step closer to him. "Why don't you threaten me one more time, and see what happens?"

"You listen to me, little man." The big man raised his fingers. "You got to the count of three to turn around and walk away." He neared his face dangerously close to Asher's. "One! Two!"

Asher smirked and before the big man could get to "three", next thing he knew, Asher headbutted him, breaking his nose as he staggered back, roaring in pain as he held his nose. Instead of an angry reaction, the man just laughed, impressed. "I like this one!" The big guy then turned around to the arena, shouting. "Hey! AMAYA! Company!"

Beskha smiled at Asher, impressed as they walked up the steps and entered the fighting pit and saw the fighters cheering to the fight in the pit below them.

Asher expected something more though. "Is that a pit?"

Beskha nodded. "Some masters couldn't get enough of the fighting. So they built their own private pits. Where things could get really nasty."

Asher moved past the fighters with Beskha and he was a bit shocked to see the fighters throw a slaver into the pit and brutally killed by a fighter like a lamb to the slaughter before he turned to the bald dark-skinned woman sitting on the bench.

"That's Amaya?" Asher asked.

Beskha nodded, giving him a worried look. "Keep your cock in your pants, little brother. She's likely to chop it off."

Asher nodded. He had had to deal with wild women before. They approached Amaya, who narrowed her eyes at them. Asher saw the scars on her face

Asher crossed his arms, smiling. "Well, hello there."

"Not many people get past The Beast." Amaya said, impressed. "You must need something very badly. So, out with it. Before I decide not to let you leave."

"I've come with an offer." Asher looked around. "I think it's one that'll interest you and your men."

Amaya gestured at Beskha. "If you wanted my interest, you wouldn't have shown up with her."

Beskha sighed, giving her a pleading look. "Amaya… Please…"

""Please" what? I had a friend once. "The Basilisk." But she died a long time ago." Amaya scoffed.

"I earned my freedom." Beskha growled.

"You walked out on me." Amaya sneered. "On all of us." She spat. "Fighting side-by-side, we were Goddesses of the pits…"

Asher stepped up in front of Beskha protectively. "You have a problem with her, deal with me."

Amaya turned her attention to Asher again. "So? What is it that you want?" She gestured to the Beast. "Why shouldn't we rip you to pieces and feed you to the Beast?" The fighters erupted in cheers as the big guy behind Asher seemed very intrigued by the thought, smiling. Asher turned to Beskha, who shrugged. He was on his own now. "My patience wears thin."

Asher took a breath. Well, here comes the convincing. He turned to the fighters, trying to make his offer as appealing as possible. "My enemies in Westeros are powerful and bloodthirsty. Worse than your Masters ever were." He looked around. "I need fearless soldiers to crush them."

The fighters cheered but Amaya shook her head. "You think we're sellswords? We don't fight other people's wars." She got up from her bench. "We are pit fighters! Artists, who paint in blood."

Beskha shook her head. "That was yesterday. The fighting pits have been closed." She turned to the fighters. "You're all free now! Free to do what you want." She gave Amaya a pleading look. "Don't you see that?"

"Yes. We are free." Amaya nodded as she sat down. "Why would we follow another?" She gestured to her fighters again. "We don't have masters anymore! Why would we follow anyone again?"

"You all excel at combat. But you know nothing until you've tasted the thrill of war!" Asher raised his hands, clenching his fists. "Waves of men crashing together! Blood and steel!" The pit fighters smiled, intrigued. "In Westeros, they sing of our great warriors for thousands of years!"

"Amaya…" Beskha turned to her. "Trust me. He's got enough gold for all of you."

Amaya considered as she turned to Asher. "You want to lead pit fighters? You have to earn their respect first."

"We don't know who you are until we see you bleed." The Beast said, folding his arms.

The fighters again cheered as Beskha sighed. "You're gonna have to show them you can fight."

Asher figured as much. "All right… Who?" He turned to Amaya. "Who's the best you've got?"

Amaya turned to the dark-haired fighter in the fighting pit, who was twirling his spear. "His name is Bloodsong. He's vicious… fearless… and fast."

Beskha shook her head. "I've never seen him before."

Amaya smirked. "Take a good look then. He's the man, who's going to kill your boy."

"And if I beat him?" Asher turned to Amaya. "You and your men will join me in my fight?"

"If you can beat Bloodsong, you'll gain our respect. But no one has ever beat him." Amaya said.

"Hm. Right…" Asher turned to the fighting pit. "Well, suppose I better get this over with."

"So, what are you supposed to be? With your little axe and your pretty blond beard?" Bloodsong taunted. "I'd sooner bend you over to fuck than fight with you."

"Thanks for noticing the beard." Asher joked as the crowd laughed.

"Well, come on. Let's see how you die." Bloodsong called out as the crowd cheered again.

Asher turned to Beskha. "If I die in here…"

"Yeah? You have a dying wish?" Beskha asked jokingly. "This oughtta be good."

"Will you return to Westeros and kill as many Whitehills as you can?" Asher asked.

"No. I'll drink enough ale to drown a horse." Beskha joked.

Asher shook his head but suddenly, Amaya's men restrained him by grabbing him in chokehold as they stripped him of his swords. "Hey! I need those!"

"You'll fight with the weapons we give you." Amaya said as they let him go.

Asher looked down at Bloodsong and jumped down as Bloodsong turned to the crowd. "You all see this cockless Westerosi? He's come to order us to battle like our Masters did!" The crowd booed. "I kill no man because another orders me to. I kill a man because it pleases me." He gestured around before turning to Asher again. "Let me show you how we dance in Meereen!" Asher threw a punch but Bloodsong jumped back to avoid the blow. "You fight dirty. I like that."

"Choose a weapon. And try not to die. Only one of you leaves the pit alive." Amaya said. "May the best fighter win."

"The best would be me!" Bloodsong roared.

"Here! Use this!" One of the pit fighters threw to Asher some claw weapon as Asher held it in his hand, while Bloodsong caught some sort of a hatchet.

Asher jumped back as Bloodsong aimed at his legs and ducked, while slicing his ankle. Bloodsong jumped in pain before swinging his hatchet but Asher blocked with his claw, disarming Bloodsong of his weapon and scratching him across his cheek as Bloodsong staggered back.

They then looked up as they switched weapons, with Asher getting a sword, while Bloodsong picked a spear.

"You won't be so lucky this time." Bloodsong spun his spear.

"Hate to tell you, but that wasn't luck." Asher sneered.

Asher dodged, when the tip of the spear almost scratched him across his neck, while Bloodsong flipped away with acrobatic grace. "Are you ready, Westerosi? This is gonna hurt!"

Asher attacked with his spear but Bloodsong parried the blow before slamming the wooden part of the spear onto Asher's back as he stumbled and the crowd cheered. "Yours will be a beautiful death." He gestured to the crowd. "Isn't that something you'd like to see?" The crowd's cheer turned louder. "Hear that boy? We cannot let the crowd go wanting."

"Think I can, actually." Asher cracked.

Asher dodged, when Bloodsong attempted to impale him with his spear and cut off the tip of the spear with his sword. Asher blocked as Bloodsong attacked again and kicked him in the chest, knocking him down on the ground.

"For that you die slow, Westerosi scum." Bloodsong growled, rolling away and regaining his footing. Before Asher could finish him off, Bloodsong kicked him in the leg, knocking him down on the ground and grabbing him in neck lock with the handle of his spear. Asher whipped his head, breaking Bloodsong's nose, causing for him to let go.

"I'm ready, Westerosi. Don't hold back." Bloodsong said as Asher got up to his feet.

"Don't intend to." Asher growled.

"Look at this terrified boy! He fears his end!" Bloodsong turned to the crowd and Asher used the opening to tackle him to the ground.

Bloodsong wrapped his arms around Asher's neck, choking him but Asher reached for the claw weapon on the ground, stabbing Bloodsong in the thigh, forcing him to let go as they both got up to his feet. Asher dodged as Bloodsong attacked and sent an uppercut to his chin, knocking him down before Asher kicked him as Bloodsong laid down in exhaustion. Amaya threw a sword at Asher's feet as the crowd cheered. "Asher! Asher! Asher!"

"Kill him!"

"Finish him!"

"Do it! Do it! Do it!"

Asher raised his blade. "Your stupid game, your stupid rules." He impaled Bloodsong with the sword, finishing him off as the crowd cheered and Amaya clapped her hands. Beskha smiled, impressed as she crossed her arms.

Asher looked up to the crowd. "Your old champion is gone. As are your old Masters." He gestured around. "You can stay here in Meereen with nothing or you can cone with me." The crowd cheered again as he continued. "I chose you for a reason! You're true warriors! Warriors I admire and respect! You deserve better than this! You deserve more than to die for someone else's entertainment. Fighting under someone else's rules. Fight with me and you will have glory and gold!" The crowd cheered. "If you've got the balls to follow me, we will set sail at dawn. And to those too craven to join me, to hell with you!"

Asher dropped his sword as he climbed up the fighting pit.

Back in the North beyond the Wall, Gared, Cotter, Finn and Sylvi were fighting the walking dead wildlings as Sylvi paled in horror. "I knew them."

"What are those things?" Gared demanded.

"Over here! Over here!" Cotter panicked as one of the White Walkers tackled him to the ground and Sylvi rushed to his aid.

Gared parried as the White Walker attacked with her spear and knocked him down. Gared dodged before she could finish him off and got up before he stabbed her in the back but much to his shock, it didn't even affect her as she elbowed him in the face, knocking him down again. Gared stared in horror before he rushed to Finn. "They won't die!"

"Anything can be killed!" Finn said as he blocked, when the White Walker attacked with her spear again and cut her across her chest, while she stepped back, snarling in pain before she impaled Finn with her spear and pinned him to a tree. Gared pulled his sword out of the White Walker as Finn tried to struggle out. "Gared, do something!"

Gared cut the hand off the White Walker and knocked her away as Finn slumped to the tree as Gared bent to him. He was bleeding out quickly. "Finn, stay with me!"

The white walker got up as the severed hand grabbed Gared by his ankle, much to his shock before the White Walker tackled Gared to the ground and started to choke him before Cotter severed its head and Gared knocked away the corpse.

Gared got up and rushed to Sylvi as she was trying to fend off another White Walker. "Fuck! Why won't they die?"

"We need fire! It's the only way!" Sylvi shouted.

Gared looked around and saw the lit up campfire before the White Walker Gared had impaled earlier stepped in his way. "Fucking hell." Gared cut it across its chest before rushing to the campfire and picking a lit up stick, while throwing one of the White Walkers to the fire, burning it to death. Gared used the stick to burn another White Walker, while Sylvi and Cotter worked in tandem to cut down another White Walker and stab it in the head before they looked around. "Wh—Where's Finn!?"

"He was over there!" Gared rushed to Finn but he had already slumped his head, unmoving as sadness filled them.

"Finn…" Cotter whispered. Gared felt guilt filling him. He died only because Gared asked him for help. They turned to see more White Walkers.

"They're everywhere!" Sylvi screamed.

"We make for the North Grove." Gared said as Cotter and Sylvi turned to him, unsure. "We need to stick together."

They turned to see the White Walkers running towards them as Sylvi turned to the direction free of the undead. "Run, NOW!" They ran off as she turned to Gared. "I hope you're right about this, Gared."

They kept on running with the White Walkers right behind them. Gared could only hope that the North Grove was real and would protect them somehow from the White Walkers.

Back in the King's Landing, Lucan accompanied Mira to, much to her surprise, to Tyrion's chambers. Mira entered as she was surprised to see Cersei was staring outside the balcony. "Your grace…"

"You're familiar with my brother's office, aren't you?" Cersei then turned to Mira. "Certainly you've been here before. You looked rather confused when you came in." Mira tensed. Cersei knew Mira had broken in. "As if you didn't know where you were."

Mira took a breath. No point trying to fool her. "Yes, your grace."

"I'd like to think we can be honest with one another." Cersei said. "However…" She eyed Mira closely. "You're quite the curiosity, aren't you?" She stepped up to near Mira. "You profess to be loyal to the Crown, yet you're not very loyal to Lady Margaery."

Mira was dreading where was she going with this. "Have I displeased you, your grace…?"

Cersei's eyes narrowed. "I've heard things. I understand you've been quite busy. Tell me – do you consider yourself an honest, loyal handmaiden? One can never tell with you Northern girls. Assuming an honest person exists in King's Landing."

Up until recent events, Mira was and lately, it was being rather challenging to be loyal to Margaery. "I try to be, your grace."

Cersei nodded. "Hm. I see." She paced down the room. "I've done my best to keep an open mind around people like you, yet…" She turned to Mira. "Luca tells me you've invited yourself into Tommen's coronation party. How exactly did that happen…? It can't have been easy."

"I meant no harm, your grace. I had a personal matter to attend to." Mira admitted.

"A personal matter…?" Cersei looked intrigued. "I'm told you used another girl to get your way in. You're not above using people to get what you want." She smiled in approval. "Good." She looked at Mira curiously. "Why would you be so reckless as to risk your neck? For what…? It all seems rather careless. Considering the consequences."

"My family is still very much at risk, your grace." Mira said. "It was crucial I attend."

Cersei stared, considering before she shook her head. "Your family." She looked away for a moment. "Sometimes that's a convenient lie we tell ourselves." She turned to Mira again. "When I suspect your issue with Lord Andros played a part in it." She paced again. "You've been such a busy little handmaiden. I assume Lady Margaery knew nothing of this."

"No, your grace." Mira admitted. If she had known, Mira would be in a lot of trouble by now.

"This wasn't the first time you've hidden the truth from her. You have no qualms about lying to her, have you…?" Cersei asked. "Tell me the truth." She gave her an assuring smile. "Your secret is safe with me."

"I have before, your grace. And I would again." Mira admitted. It has never taken any pleasure to her to lie to Margaery.

"You are resourceful, aren't you?" Cersei said, seeming impressed. "Perhaps I mistook your Northern stubbornness for ignorance. But now I see there's more to you." She then eyed Mira in a way that unnerved Mira. "You're a cunning girl. And perhaps you can help me."

"Your grace…?" Mira asked warily.

"You're quite "friendly" with my brother Tyrion." Cersei noted. "I need you to speak with him before the trial begins. I want to know who he intends to call as a witness on his behalf. Consider it a favor to the Crown. For which we will all be grateful."

Mira tensed. Cersei wanted to use her. Mira knew it would be unwise to say 'no' to Cersei but she was uncomfortable with the idea of lying to Tyrion and using him. Besides, Tyrion himself was a cunning man, he could tell she was lying. Mira plastered a smile on her face. "I— I guess I could, your grace."

Cersei looked away from Mira, her eyes flashing with concern. "It won't be easy. Tyrion is devious." She turned to Mira again. "You'll have to hide your intentions, otherwise he'll tell you nothing. You may prove to be a useful little bird to me. Assuming you'll do as you're told. In return, I'll take care of your problem with Lord Andros."

Mira nodded. "Thank you, your grace."

"I never liked the man anyway." Cersei said as she was at the doorstep. "And I doubt anyone will miss him."

Cersei and Lucan left as Mira considered. She could use Cersei's help but lying to Tyrion and manipulate him into telling her who would defend him at his trial, after what Tyrion had done for Mira? One thing Mira knew for certain, Tyrion was no fool and he was not easily deceived but would he help her if she were honest with him? Tyrion and Cersei held no love for each other, even more after he was accused of Joffrey's death. More often it started to feel to Mira that she was jumping out of the frying pan into the fire and found herself between a rock and a hard place.