She drags him through the godswood, both of them laughing breathlessly, his larger hand encasing her smaller one as they evade an imaginary pursuit. Above them, the moon is nearly full, its light reflecting down the water of the God's Eye, creating an eerie glow.
They duck behind a tree and before she knows it, their mouths meet, their breathing fast and loud in the silence of the night.
She leans into his lips, and he tilts his head to capture hers more fully. Her hand moves up his back to cradle his neck in her palm, and if the bounds of proprietary are further breached, only the gods could stand as witness.
"I love you," he whispers into her ear as they lie exhausted on the grass, accompanied only by their uneven breaths.
Her hands clench and unclench the grass beneath her and she curves her spine against his chest, taking comfort in his larger frame, his arms wrapping around her as though they'll never be taken away.
She can feel it when his breathing slows and evens out, his body descending into slumber, his arms still stretched around her. It's strange, how such an ordinary gesture makes her feel so safe. She fits against him like a glove and she finds herself wishing that this night could last forever, dawn always an hour away.
They lie there until the first rays of the dawn begin to shine through the trees, until she carefully maneuvers herself out of his warm embrace, still brushing the grass off of her gown as she leans over his prone body and gently shakes him awake.
"Ned," she whispers in his ear, hand still on his shoulder.
He makes no cognizant response to her words, merely groans and turns over, rolling his neck and shoulders and reaching for his discarded boots as he tries to orient himself.
They exchange naught but a chaste kiss and hasty promises of a future neither of them can guarantee before they depart in opposite directions, but hope buoys both of their steps. She heads towards the looming castle of Harrenhal, head high, while he makes his way to the tents that fly the banner of a running direwolf, tunic still askew.
When their eyes meet again later that morning, divided by a tourney ground and a crown of winter roses, that hope is gone, chased away by horror.
