From the season 7 finale.

He'll take her by the waist.

She'll sway in his embrace.

They'll dance in the drunken moonlight like laughing ghosts.

"Stay," he'll whisper; it'll warm against her parted lips.

So red. So soft.

They'll tempt him.

She'll smile. What a sad smile. Her hand will slip from his.

"I can't."

"You won't," he'll interpret. "There's a difference."

She'll sigh, sad again. He'll hate himself for doing this to her. She'll say nothing else, but it won't matter.

He'll do something to keep her with him.

It will be heaven when their lips touch. The taste of her mouth; wine and cake and a sweetness he'll recognize to be exclusively hers.

He'll plunder and forget. She'll whimper and surrender.

Everything will be quiet then. People will stare, voices will whisper - he won't care.

For the moment, she'll stay his. If only for a moment.