The dummy's fabric entrails made the dust of the soil fly when they fell. And the dummy itself shortly followed, almost in pieces.
Yoren knew Arya had been looking at him with her blue eyes full of worry for hours, ever since he picked up his sword to unleash his anger of this poor and innocent dummy.
Anger, fury, rage. That was all he felt, all he was. The only question he should ask himself was against who. The gods who made Privan fell ill with the Shivers, a deadly plague? His father for forbidding any visit to his master?
No. He was angry at himself. He completely neglected Privan ever since they arrived at Storm's End, he let the smith on his own almost all the time… Yoren barely spent a few hours at the forge every week in Privan's company. The boy did not properly enjoy every second at his master's side, taking it for granted. And now, he felt how wrong he has been.
He should have remembered sooner what his mother taught him: always enjoy your loved ones' presence as much as you could, death will always claim them too soon. She learned this lesson the hard way, she tried to prepare him to this reality. But some truths have to be felt to be fully understood.
Yoren was about to trim a defenseless tree with Needle when two strong hands fell on his shoulders. There were only two men he knew with such muscled, powerful hands. And one of them was dying.
Feeling his father's presence behind him, the boy let the sword fall. He was in his father's arms before Needle hit the ground with a harsh metallic sound.
Nestled against Gendry's chest, Yoren finally let his crushing sadness get the upper hand. The boy almost felt like the very day of his arrival, crying in his father's arms and the protective presence of Privan in mind. But Yoren was not a little boy anymore, he grew up since this day, now he could reach his father's shoulders without trouble.
So, this this was becoming an adult felt like he thought.
Lost in his dark thoughts, he came back to reality when he felt a familiar shadow fall upon him. His father had led him to the heart tree. He almost ran to it, eagerly touching the bark like he hoped to reach his mother through it. Gods, he needed her so much right now. Especially now, since his fatherly figure was about to die.
A familiar twist of guilt hit his damaged heart. He still looked up at the smith as a fatherly figure, even now he had his blood father at his side. Yoren was absolutely convinced he was the worst son who ever lived, to both of them. Two smiths, strong and upright who lost so much on the way, who went through so much. A commoner and a lord, one at the very low and the other at the very high of Westerosi society and yet so alike.
"-Yoren, speak to me. Your sister is scared to death, she was almost crying when she fetched me. I had decisions to make to contain the epidemic but now, I am here for you." The lord's blue eyes shone as much as his daughter's, contained tears catching the light.
But the boy could not manage to put his whirling thoughts into coherent words. So, he told everything that came to his mind between sobs, so powerful they made him shake. Yoren told him about his regrets, his shames, his hopes for what felt for him like hours. When finally, the flood of his words stopped, it was dusk. Davos' favorite moment of the day he recollected. His younger brother was very fond on the elegant yet plentiful blending of colour the sky became for such a short time it always seemed to be a dream.
"-I do not know what you are going through, I have never lost a parent. I am glad you had Privan at your side all this time, he is a good man and a fine smith. Do not feel guilty about your feelings about him, he had been in your life much longer than I have." His father took him in his arms again. Yoren felt his heart ache.
"-Father, you do not understand. I don't like to smith, I never did, I just pretended the whole time! I felt bad to lie to Privan all the time. Smithing meant so much to him and I…" The boy could not explain how lying to Privan made him feel. He finally dared to meet his father's confused gaze.
"-But, if you hated to smith, why did you become Privan's apprentice? I would be very surprised your mother insisted… I bet she is the kind of parent who let you make your own trail." And, like every time he thought of his mother, his father's eyes became unfocused, almost blurred.
"-To feel closer to you. One of the only thing Mother ever told me about you is that you were a smith. So, as soon as I could, I helped Privan at the forge. I felt like I was walking into your footsteps, like I was reaching for you thought smithing." The tears that have been making the lord of Storm's End eyes wet for several minutes finally flowed at these words. Unable to express how moved he was, he put his big calloused hands around his son's face and caressed his cheeks with delicacy and tenderness.
"-I love you Yoren. I have never told you that and it is not right. I love you, I really do and I always will. I want you to know that." His voice was hoarse with emotion and Flea Bottom accent.
This time, Yoren was the one who took his father into his arms. And they stayed like that, drawing strength and hope one from another.
In a small voice, so small Yoren had to listen very carefully, his father added: "-You know, when we were travelling together your mother and I, we were parted by a red priest of R'hllor who bought me and took me away. I managed to escape with Lord Davos' help. And as soon as I was in a safe place, I tried to find fresh news about the Starks. And the only thing people gossiped about was the Red Wedding. I thought your mother died there for years. Until I heard about her survival by Lord Davos when he fetched me, years later, for the Battle for Dawn. I mourned for her, you know, during all those years. She had been my only friend, the only person who gave two shits about me, who fought for me. She told me I was pack. When I was at her side, I finally felt I belonged somewhere. Mourning does not make the pain disappear. It just softens it, slowly, making it bearable."
Like every time his father told him more about his mother and their common past, Yoren's heart beat faster. His father loved his mother, it was as clear as day and the thought was very comforting. And the boy was ready to bet his mother reciprocated the feeling, why would she be in pain whenever her son asked about his father otherwise?
Yoren stayed in his father's arms for a long time, soothing his aching heart in his strong embrace.
Their bubble of serenity burst when Arya arrived in a quiet and discreet pace which was highly unusual for her, always so full of cheerful energy. Her face was solemn and sad as she came closer to her father and brother. She crouched to look Yoren in the eye and put her hand through his hair, tangling them a bit.
"-The two of you should come back, everyone has been looking for you." With a sad smile, their father helped Yoren back to his feet. They went to the castle in a mourning silence and parted in the halls, Arya to the Maester -she helped him with herbs because of the plague-, Yoren to the kitchen to grab something to eat and their father to the main hall.
The boy was starving, he had not eaten anything since last evening. He really tried to force himself but he could not, any food tasted like ash in his mouth.
As he approached the kitchen, Yoren heard powerful sobs. Of course, he scolded himself, Blimau. How by the gods old and new could he forget about her? If there was one being on earth able the grieve with him, it would be her. Guilt once again weighed on him.
He approached her slowly, as if not to frightened her. She looked up as he came closer. When their gazes met, the sobs stopped, replaced by a void expression on her face. The calamity which fell upon her already loaded shoulder was beyond words, beyond comprehension. In her hands, there was the veil she should have worn on her wedding day. A wedding that will never come.
Yoren took her in his arms, very slowly as if he was trying not to break her. More than she already was, at least. She seemed so small against him, she who towered him when he first arrived at Storm's End. Now, she barely met his chin. This woman who inspired him so much respect as a newcomer, who seemed so sure in her capacities and skills, was now a fragile broken things in his arms.
Yoren was growing up. And it was very painful.