Amara sought refuge from the rain in some old ruins long lost in the depths of the forests of Lothar. She'd been on the run for several days and had kept moving for as long as she could. She'd long hated the Lotharian tradition of arranged marriages and when her father announced her own wedding would take place within a week, Amara had chosen freedom and fled.
She knew her father and her unwanted fiance would send men after her and so she'd kept moving as long as she could, barely stopping to rest and nibble the small handful of food she'd stolen from the kitchens on her way out. But now she was exhausted, and the nonstop pouring rain had worn her the rest of the way down.
In the grey light and curtain of rain, Amara couldn't make out many features of the ruin, but she quickly took shelter in one of the few rooms with an intact ceiling. There were the remains of a fireplace on one wall, and long destroyed furniture that may have been a bed along another wall. Bits of colored glass near an window opening hinted at once had been stained glass. Thick layers of dust lay everywhere amongst the rubble. Amara shivered in the cold wet clothes she wore and quickly stripped. Her pack was also soaked through, she quickly discovered, leaving her spare clothes unwearable. Worse, the bread she'd taken was mush. She forced herself to swallow it anyway, grimacing in disgust. But with no idea of when she'd be able to pick up more food, every bit counted.
Then she tucked herself in behind some rubble, hoping that would serve to not just hide her from searchers, but also that the small space would help build up the heat from her body, keeping her at least a little warm. Then, shivering, she fell into an uneasy sleep...
Warmth soon soothed her into a deeper slumber and Amara slept the day away. When she woke, the soft blankets of the bed made her snuggle in a little deeper. She'd never felt anything so soft and she was tempted to sleep a little longer. But the feeling that something wasn't quite right soon opened her eyes.
Moonlight poured through the stained glass window to her left and a merry fire burned in the fireplace across the room. Her last memory was of a cold and damp ruin, not this cozy place. Confused, Amara sat up, shoving the blankets away. "I'm dreaming..."
"You are," agreed a voice.
Turning, Amara saw a man lounging in a chair, watching her. In that way that dreams had, this seemed perfectly normal, as did the silken robe he wore around his dark skin. His eyes were a dark shining gold and they seemed to look straight into her soul. Yet she was unafraid of this man.
"You were freezing to death, my dear. I don't have much power left to me, but I have enough to bring you here and warm you up. Breakfast?" With a wave of his hand, a tray of fruit and cheeses appeared on the bed next to Amara, with a steaming cup next to them.
Reaching for the cup, she took a sip of the dark brown beverage and made a moan of pleasure at the taste.
"Hot chocolate," the man said. She'd only heard of this before, but never tasted it. It came from the western kingdoms and Lothar had long been at war with them.
"Who are you?" she asked the man.
