It had been a long time since he had last seen Anna when he slowly walked the dark path under the arena, the path leading to the chambers where the gladiators slept, ate, and did whatever else they did when they were not training. He did not know how many days had passed due to having lain delirious for a period of time after his punishment had ended. He vaguely remembered a weary-eyed servant girl caring for his wounds and feeding him, but could not recall her face. It didn't really matter anyway, she was just another slave. She was going to die alone and forgotten, just like so many others before her. Like so many that would come after her. But her hands had been gentle and caring, and they had almost reminded him of Anna's. But she hadn't been Anna, and he needed her. That was why he was here, knowing full well the pain that would follow when Danarius realised that he had gone against his rules once again. He nodded briefly at the quartermaster, but did not stop to address the man. He had already checked the training rooms and not seen Anna there. He knocked carefully on the door that was hers, waiting. It took long enough for him to worry that he had the wrong room before she opened the door, a sliver of darkness and a hint of golden hair. He breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes focused on him. She could see. Thank the gods she could see! When she saw it was him, she opened the door a little more so that he could come inside.

He looked at her carefully in the light of the solitary candle. She looked sick, weary, as if she had been ill and was wondering whether more of her stomach contents were about to become reintroduced to her mouth. She tried to smile at him, but it was wan and slightly shaky. As he wrapped his arms around her, he could feel her tremble slightly. He pressed his nose into her hair and smelled sweat, sand and a hint of flowers.

"When did the spell end?" He asked, quiet so as not to break the spell that lay over the room; did not want another fight, too grateful and relieved that she had seen him, that there had once again been light in her eyes.

"Nearly six days ago" her voice was whisper-soft as her arms came around him. Her skin felt clammy. His hold tightened. She must have been petrified, all alone in the dark.

"How long have you been ill?" He pressed on, fearing not only for her health but for her life. If she was sick - how was she supposed to face the last challenge, merely days away?

"I'm not ill" she whispered back. He lifted his head and looked in her eyes, searchingly. She did not seem to be lying.

"What is wrong, then?" He asked, a demanding tone in his voice. Anna looked away, briefly, but then her eyes returned to his and there was a newfound strength, a note he had never heard before.

"I'm pregnant, Fenris." She said.

His eyes drew to her stomach, still flat. Pregnant. His child, growing in there. His blood ran cold. She still had to face the last challenge. With his child growing inside her.

Anna's lips touched his cheek, briefly. They were dry and chafed, but still felt soft.

"It's going to be okay" she whispered, sensing his fear.

He believed her.

Fenris lay awake, many hours later, and ran his fingers over the soft skin of the woman sleeping beside him. The candle had burned down long ago, but he was reluctant to leave her warm embrace even for the short amount of time it would take him to light a new one from the pile on the table. Instead, he lay in the darkness and imagined her belly swollen and stretched around their child, how it would be to feel it kick his hand as he stroked the taut skin. It was impossible; his mind shied away from it. Would not, could not comprehend it. He, the magisters slave and favourite pet, was to be a father. If she won. She had to win. This was bigger than him now; she had come to Tevinter to win his freedom, but the child was bigger than that. He would give anything to protect them. Even his freedom. He pulled Anna close, ignoring the muttered protest since she immediately adjusted and placed her head in his chest. She belong there; he knew that now, without question. She was his world. She, and their baby.

"I love you" he whispered into her golden hair. "Both of you." He swallowed hard.

"Spirits help us all."

"You don't understand!" the quartermaster screamed, voice shrill with panic as Anna strode towards the entrance to the arena. "It's a dragon! The last battle of the three-fold challenge is always a dragon! And so far no one has won!"

Anna's face was hard as stone, her back ramrod straight.

"I will win" she said with the conviction of a saint walking to the pyre. "I will win. I must win." She turned to the gate that would let her into the arena. Her knees felt weak, but she straightened her back, adjusted her shield and gripped her sword tighter. She had no choice but to win: otherwise she would be killed, and she and Fenris would never have what they deserved to have. Freedom. Each other. Their child. She tried to cheer herself up with an old game she used to play with Caelan when they were little.

"Sometimes" she said to herself, "I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast. Count them, Anna." She drew a deep breath. "One: There are children who do not dream. Two: I was born to be a templar. Three: Mages and templars are a union made by the Maker." The gate opened and she walked into the arena. "Four: Female templars are barren yet I bear a child. Five: Fenris is mine and I am his. Six: I can slay a dragon." The roaring of the crowd as she stood before them was a mere whisper to the roaring in her ears; her heart was racing with fear and her blood pumping fast and hard in her veins. She raised her shield and readied her sword. She heard the cry of the dragon as it was released from its prison and turned her face up to see it come. It was hell and death and fire sweeping towards her on giant red wings but Anna stood unafraid, waiting. She had one chance, and one chance only, to save them all. The dragon opened it fearsome mouth and roared, showing its fearsome teeth as it dove towards its opponent. Anna braced herself for the impact. High above her head, Fenris closed the eye that was not swollen shut and prayed.

The arena floor shook from the impact as the dragon landed about seven feet from where Anna stood but she managed to stay upright. For a horrifying moment, their eyes met. Beast and woman saw and measured each other and there was silence. Then the dragon roared. Anna let out a battle cry that rose from the depths of her soul and charged.

Fenris forced himself to watch the horrifying battle. The woman was so tiny in comparison to the foe coming at her that she was barely visible in the grand arena. Yet she was there; swinging her sword, raising her shield, always just out of the fiend's reach. It almost looked like she was dancing with it, swirling and stabbing, cutting and parrying with movements as graceful as they were deadly. This was the ninth time he saw her in action in the arena, and it would be the last. And as he stood, helpless by his master's side, his hands bound and a chain around his neck, all he could do was pray to gods he had not believed in for many, many years that she would be spared. That she would live. She was his only hope to ever regain his freedom. She, and the child that grew in her womb.

The sweat was pouring down Anna's face and her shield arm shook with the effort to hold the heavy shield that was her only protection. Her only encouragement was that the dragon seemed to be tiring, too: the swipes of its devastating claws and swings of its majestic tail seemed to become slower, not as powerful. It was, however, also becoming angrier, its fire attack coming more often. Anna danced just out of its reach, attacking what parts she could. She circled the beast, trying to always stay ahead of its head while simultaneously staying out of reach of the tail. The sand beneath her feet was sticky with dragon blood and her leg ached horribly from where the tail had struck; most likely something had broken. She forced herself to ignore the pain and focus on her child. She had to win this battle. She had to win.

That was when she saw her chance; the dragon whipped its head back to breathe fire down over her and Anna did not hesitate. She ran forward, eyes fixed on the vulnerable skin of the dragon's chest. She threw her shield away and took her sword in both hands. Then, with all her strength, she thrust her sword into the dragon's chest. The beast howled in agony. Anna pulled her sword out and thrust again and again, each thrust making the dragon howl at it scrambled to get to the woman beneath its heavy bulk. Then a shudder ran through the beast and the back legs gave out. Anna, realising that she was about to be crushed, let go of the sword and ran for her life, managing to get out just in time. The dragon fell, the ground shaking from the weight. Then there was silence. Anna's legs gave out and she fell to her knees, impossibly sad at the death of this magnificent creature.

The dying dragon raised its head one last time, staring with hatred at the human who had bested it. There was still a little flame left in its belly, and it drew a deep hacking breath. Then angled its head just so. It opened its maw, and breathed out a strain of red-hot flames. The fire engulfed Anna within seconds, turning her from a victor into a living torch.