He has been seeing her so often in his nightmares and in the shadows at night that it isn't a shock at first to see her standing in the street. His gut seems to know before he does, sinking and twisting painfully as everything sinks in. His legs want to give out, but his feet overrule the decision, moving in her direction as, what seems like a sick joke, becomes more real before his eyes.

He stops short of reaching her side, losing the momentum as everything came back to him quickly. The Red Wedding, losing her, the pain and guilt that twisted in his heart like a knife. Because of him, she died, because of him, they lost their child. Facing her was like facing the Old Gods, waiting for their judgement and punishment. He wouldn't fault her for being angry at him, hurt as well at what he'd become in his grief.

"Jeyne?" Somehow he found the breath to speak that blessed name, struggling to keep himself composed.