"What is wrong with you?" She asked. "Toren is clearly suffering because of you! I already told you to not believe the prophecy! They are lies! Toren would not betray the country and you are just hurting your son!"
"He is not my son, Airen! He was never our son! You only adopted him from some unknown place. His nature came from an unknown origin! How can you trust him?!"
"Goodness, Muren! He was just a little child then! We did not raise him to betray anything or anyone. Do you not understand that? Do not hurt our innocent son, I am imploring you, my husband."
However she tried appealing to him, none of her words went through.
He refused to listen as he had been too imprisoned with his own beliefs now.
Their argument stretched longer that Muren ended up physically hurting Airen.
It was an unexpected turn of events which have taken her aback.
He had never laid a harsh hand against her since they met.
And she was struck with utter shock and pain electrifying her in a paralyzing trance. Even her charms as a wife had not worked in that heated conversation, which they had to end then immediately.
Since that turning point of a day, Muren had drastically changed to a downhill behavior.
He had gotten worse with his attitude, hurting his second son and never listening to his lovely wife.
Even Coen had noticed such dark turns that his mischievous and cheerful personality would automatically tone down when inside the household or when he was with his father.
He became more sensitive and cautious around him that it felt like their father had been eaten by some invisible entity. Muren was not the same person he used to be before.
He would not join the cheerful conversations during their meals together, he would refuse any invitation to the public market or the public park to have fun, he would not listen to any form of compassion, and he would not act like a loving father towards Toren.
Despite the horrible treatment, Toren endured everything and told himself that it shall soon be fine.
He was obedient to his father's orders and demands even if he knew they were all mere tortures to make his hours tinted with flames of hell. He would engage in mock fights and get pounded by heavy strikes.
He would sprint and train and work even with swollen limbs or bleeding skin. All that matters then was to satisfy his father.
He would only think of the days he worked hard in obedience to gain the family's tender care and approval, which he did not plan on letting go.
Even as a child, he knew that it would not be an option to return to the orphanage or on the streets for battles are harder alone.
There, he fought alone.
Day after day, the enemy was with a different face or with a newly found power.
Whether it be hunger or mental abuse or a gaslight instigated by some priestess, he would rather forget it all.
There was a tender comfort that lingered in the physical pain he was fighting.
It was visible and rather bearable.
The enemy was clear and he knew how to deal with it.
The cloths that served as his bandages, the leaves and herbs that he had heard from the nurses, and some medicinal techniques no one else knew. He had everything in his aid.
There was food and companion and some bits of freedom which he could not ask for more.
Even when the treatment had been worse because of a slight discrimination and subtle ostracism during meal time and bed spaces and other necessities, he stayed on his lane with both feet, standing strong and still.
Somehow, Airen had eventually convinced her husband to discontinue the mandatory training with Toren.
It felt like a shackle on his left foot had unlocked and it made all the difference. Tasting a bit of comfort had never been as satisfying as then.
In spite of his brave and obedient act though, he was truly a child.
Airen once saw him behind their house near the forest, silently crying.
He let his tears flow when no one looked and he would desperately wipe them off with his wounded arms.
Such a heartrending scene proved how innocently pained he truly was.
Airen did not bother to go and embrace him with warmth for she valued his son's little pride and upheld dignity that she could not possibly have the guts to shatter to pieces.