She wants Marcus to leave, but he chooses otherwise

"Damn it..." Lyra breathed, the rough heat of arousal in her voice fading ever so slightly. Marcus lay underneath her muscled body, sobbing hoarsely into the pillows and wishing she'd just get this over with now. Let her hurt him...let her do as she wanted, if he could just get out of this room sooner and run to Jack. He just wanted...needed his handsome lover's muscled arms around him, more than he'd needed anything in his life before, but this scary, terrible woman wasn't about to let him go until she was satisfied. The young prince whimpered as he felt her lift herself up off his back, that horrible ivory cock sliding free of his sore butt. Was she going to hurt him again? As he trembled on the sheets, Lyra shifted sideways, kneeling up on the bed beside him. "What the fuck am I doing?" The scary woman murmured softly, her voice uncertain.

Hardly daring to move, Marcus turned his head slightly, staring up at her through a mist of tears. She...looked unhappy, her one good eye narrowed and her lips pursed, but she made no move to touch him again. Was she going to stop after all? The young prince felt his heart tremble with relief at the thought, but he knew he couldn't rely on that just yet, not when she'd shown hardly any hesitation in **** him in the first place, or having others do it. But now...somehow, him sobbing about Jack had given her pause. It hardly seemed possible that such a woman who seemed to hate his family so much could feel any sort of pity for him, but...why else had she stopped? If he could...just make her feel even more sorry for him, maybe...she'd give up and leave him alone. He had to be smart, he didn't have any other way to stop her.

"Please..." Marcus sniffled. Tears dribbled down his cheeks, glistening in his fluttering lashes as he let them flow. It wasn't hard to look scared and upset, it was exactly how he felt after all. He just had to hope now that was enough to make Lyra feel bad for him. "You don't have to do this, I'll make it good for you, I'll...use my mouth again, all you want. Just no...more."

"Stop..." Lyra grunted sourly, holding up her hand. The young prince paused, an icy nervousness in his chest. Had he pushed too far? He stared uncertainly up at her, his lip trembling, hoping she wasn't about to grab him and shove that ivory cock back up his butt. "Look at you." The scarred woman continued, her one good eye fixed on his face. "Prettier than most girls and sweeter too. You don't even know how popular you'd be in that fucking place I grew up in. Those noble pigs would have been lining up for a night with you, even if they didn't know you were the son of the man they were supposed to serve. You think I'm a rough lay...you don't even want to know what they'd have done to a delicate thing like you. But then I guess it's just a difference of degrees. You'd never have willingly done any of this with me if I hadn't **** you into it, just like my mother would never have shared her bed with a single one of those cruel bastards if she'd had any sort of choice." She laughed, a coarse, empty sound. "Fuck, it wasn't supposed to be like this...it was supposed to be simple. You were all supposed to deserve this." She raised her head to stare at the wall above him, her good eye dull. The look of confusion and regret on her face was enough to make the young prince feel a flicker of pity for her despite everything. Suddenly he couldn't help but remember that awful story she'd told him about her mother. He didn't...couldn't believe she was right about what had happened, about his Father being the one who'd done all that to her, but the pain and sadness in her words had been real enough all the same.

"Lyra?" Marcus stammered softly. He didn't even know what to say...

"Enough, I'm done." The scarred woman sighed. She reached for the leather straps around her hips and yanked them open, pulling the ivory toy away. With a harsh growl, she tossed it across the room. Marcus couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he watched the fake cock skitter away across the floor. He shifted on the bed, his poor butt still rather tender. If she'd just been gentler maybe...it might have been okay, but right now he was glad if he'd never have to see that awful thing again. "You can keep the fucking money off your debt, it's all pointless anyway. It's not justice...just a game I don't even want to play." Lyra continued sourly, not even looking at him. "Get out, go back to Jack, boy."

Marcus rose, wincing as he lifted himself up to sit gingerly on the bed near her. Part of him wanted nothing more than to run from this room as quickly as he could, go find his handsome lover and let Jack hug him tight until all these worries faded away and he could be happy again. Just a few days ago, he wouldn't even have hesitated, hiding from his problems like he always had before. Even at the worst moments, when his own older sister had been banished by his parents he'd hidden away in his room, too afraid to find out why. Only now, as he stared at this scarred, tortured woman who'd done so much to hurt him, he suddenly found he couldn't leave her like this. If he did...nothing would change. Tomorrow she'd still be bitter and angry, tormented by these wounds she blamed his family for.

It would be easy to excuse that too, to pretend like it wasn't anything to do with him, but after everything he'd heard and seen, Marcus knew now that his parents held some of the responsibility. It was partly their fault the people of the Kingdom were so unhappy and angry...that a woman like Lyra's mother had been **** to sell her body to survive and feed her daughter. Rulers were supposed to look after their people, to protect and shelter even the lowest among them. How many times had his Father told him that while doing apparently nothing of the sort? But he was a prince still...the son of a King, and that meant it fell on him now to try and fix what he could. Taking in a soft, shuddering breath and rubbing away the last of his tears with a hand, Marcus mustered what little courage he could. It was time to be brave...

"Lyra...I'm not leaving." He said simply. The scarred woman turned to stare at him, shock in her gaze.

"What?" She snarled, but her anger seemed more like a guttering candle, a startled reaction to something she hadn't expected in the slightest. It was frightening still, and Marcus felt his heart beat faster, but he didn't back down.

"You paid for a whole night with me, one thousand crowns, remember?" The young prince murmured, keeping his voice soft and soothing. He let his arms rest by his sides, trying to look as calm as he could. She was in pain, lashing out because of it...if he could just make her see him like this, she wouldn't hurt him again. Somehow he knew that for certain. "So I'm staying, for the whole night."

"Why do you even care? I **** you into this..." She snapped. Marcus didn't answer. He wasn't about to tell her he felt sorry for her...not just yet anyway. Right now that was likely to make her mad again. "I don't...I don't want this..." She stammered uncertainly. "It's done, I said. I'm not going to fuck you."

"You don't have to." The young prince shrugged. "I'm here anyway, for whatever you want..." There was silence for a few long moments, the two of them staring at each other.

"What could I possibly want from some spoiled, pretty brat like you apart from to fuck him?" She grunted at last. Marcus kept quiet once again, meeting her uncertain gaze. It was strange...he'd been so afraid of her before, but now all he could see was just how hurt she was, injuries far deeper and more painful even than that livid burn across her side. All things she blamed his parents for...no wonder she'd tried so hard to tear them down. But even through all that pain and rage, she'd still tried to do what was best for people, sharing out the treasury, feeding the poor and hungry rather than keeping it for herself. He couldn't imagine having that kind of strength. "Fine, you want to stay?" She tossed her hair, her lips curled. "Guess you can make yourself useful. Over there on my desk there's a pitcher of ale. Fill the mug with it and bring it to me. I could use a fucking drink right now. "

Marcus nodded hurriedly. She was still bossing him about, but at least she wasn't being horrible about it anymore. That was an improvement, right? He shuffled over to the end of the bed and slipped off. His legs were a bit unsteady still, and the tender ache in his poor butt made him wince, but he managed to stand. He could feel Lyra's gaze on him, his cheeks flushing hot as she stared at his naked body from behind. It was hard to believe she wasn't going to do something more to him if she was looking at him like that, but...he trusted her somehow. Biting his lip, the young prince shuffled over to the desk in the corner on shivering legs. Just like she'd told him, there was a clay pitcher half-full of dark brown ale waiting there, and a wooden mug beside it.

As Marcus reached for the jug, his gaze fell on a glimmering gold chain lying there beside it. A necklace, he realized suddenly. Only instead of a charm or jewel dangling from the chain, there was a round piece of polished gold, hinged to hang open. Frowning curiously, the young prince leaned over to get a closer look. Inside the pendent, there was a small, painted picture, a woman smiling tenderly back at him. She was really quite beautiful, her skin smooth and pale, her hair long and dark, and her green eyes framed with long lashes. There was something rather familiar in that face, and before he could stop himself the young prince found himself reaching for the necklace. He held it up carefully in his hands, staring at the gorgeous woman inside. Was this Lyra...before she was burned? It almost could be, they looked similar enough, only this woman looked rather older and happier.

"What's taking you so long, boy? You pull one of those pampered muscles or something?" Lyra called out from the bed, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a gasp, Marcus tried to put the necklace back down, but somehow it slipped from his hands instead, falling on the floor at his feet and bouncing away towards the bed. "What the fuck are you doing with that?" The scarred woman snarled viciously. She leapt up in an instant, moving shockingly fast despite her injured leg and darting for the piece of golden jewellery. She was shaking as she grabbed the necklace and lifted it up in one hand, her jaw clenched and her one good eye narrowed. Rising to her full height, she lifted the jewellery with her, letting it dangle from her hand by the chain. The portrait spun slowly, in her grip, her pained gaze fixed on it like she couldn't look away. "Thought I tossed this piece of shit out already, my mistake." She panted hoarsely, sounding like she could hardly breathe. "You know...where I found it, boy?" Marcus shook his head, not daring to even squeak. "When I was looking through your father's things earlier, I spotted a locked drawer of his desk, hidden away underneath. While you were with Juliet I went back and cracked it open. This was...right there waiting for me, like some sick joke." She tore her gaze from the portrait with a strangled gasp, glaring at Marcus instead across the room. "Why...why the fuck did he do that?" She gasped, desperation in her voice. "Why did he keep a picture of the woman he had burned to ****?" The young prince was frozen, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. Lyra was staring at him, trembling and gasping for air, on a knife-edge of panic. He knew he had to say something...but what?