Author's Note: On her second wedding night, Jeyne can't help but remember what she's lost.

A new departure for me but I have become overwhelmed with too many A Song of Ice and Fire feels to keep ignoring the calls to write fanfiction for it.

Many thanks to MiHnn for looking over this for me and encouraging me to publish it. I also blame her for encouraging me to write ASOIAF fanfiction - go and check out her stories as she's a fantastic writer for many different fandoms.

Also SPaG are not my strong point, so please excuse any mistakes in this drabble.

Warning: This drabble contains dubious consent issues around marital sex that would be deemed as rape in the judiciary system of many countries.

Disclaimer: I'm not GRRM and write this purely as a hobby and not for any profit. This disclaimer is valid for everything I post in this piece.

In the Shadow of the Moon

No matter how hard she screwed her eyes shut and tried to pretend the hot hands that pawed her body were his, she couldn't. Her memories wouldn't allow her. She couldn't defile what they'd had with this… this passionless, horrible coupling. There were no sweet murmurs in her ear just animalistic grunts that turned her blood cold. She turned her head to the side and gazed out the window. The full moon shone in, lighting the bed chamber with a silvery, grey light, reminiscent of the cloak she'd been given during her first marriage. It was almost as if the moon was mocking her, reminding her of what she'd once had.

Finally, the oaf groaned and rolled off her. She refused to look at him. This minor Lannister bannerman who'd been coerced by her mother and the Kingslayer into marrying her. She wouldn't call him her husband. That was reserved for the man who still carried her heart. The man she'd never see again and whose image was slowly fading from her mind.

The loud, drunken snores told her that he was sated and asleep. He hadn't noticed or cared that she lain there as still as a statue, stiff and wooden. The coupling had hurt but she'd refused to give him the satisfaction of wincing. She'd endured, turning inwards, relying on her memories to ignore what was happening. It was a habit she'd become used to in the last two years. She was a disgrace, something to be hidden away in some little rural keep so her family and her so-called liegemen could forget she existed.

Far away, she thought she heard the howl of a wolf.

The tears slipped silently down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow and Jeyne whispered a word that was almost a broken sigh.

"Robb!"