They do, until Marcus hears some things he doesn't like

Marcus shivered in the pillory, his wrists sore from where they'd rubbed against the wood and his back already starting to ache from the awkward position. It had to have been more than an hour since Lyra had left him here with Jack. As the morning wore on, more and more people filtered through the town square, smiling and chattering to each other. Some were even singing and cheering, carrying sacks of grain and chanting Lyra's name.

He couldn't understand why all these people were so happy! Weren't they at all upset that their rightful King and Queen had been overthrown by this band of ruffians? The young prince had always been taught that the people loved his family dearly, but now at the first sign of trouble they turned traitor! Dirty, treacherous peasants! How dare they?

Seeing all that was bad enough, but worse still were those people who noticed him stuck here naked and helpless. They'd pause, shocked for a moment, before giving him lingering stares and mocking smiles that made his stomach twist. Some of the men looked at him like he was a piece of meat, and he sensed that only Jack's huge presence at his side was stopping them from coming over and doing something awful to him. That thought made him turn and look at the brawny man every now and then, just to confirm he was still there. No other reason, of course, even if he often found himself blushing and thinking about what Jack had done to him.

Then one time when he was staring at the older man's muscled chest, Jack turned and looked right at him. With a sharp squeal, Marcus tore his gaze away and glanced down at the ground instead, cheeks blazing hot. His heart was beating a little faster in his chest. Why had he reacted that way? It must have been so obvious.

"You thirsty, kid?" Jack asked suddenly. Marcus froze, biting his lip. He didn't want to speak to these horrible people, but he did need a drink. Plus, he was sure he could still taste a little of the salty, musky flavor of the older man's cock. It'd be good to wash that out of his mouth, and maybe it would stop his thoughts straying back to that.

"Yes, I am." The young prince admitted, still staring at the ground.

"Here." The brawny man stepped up to the side of the pillory, slipping a gourd from his belt and popping open the lid. "I'll have to pour it for you." Marcus found his mouth opening obediently as Jack moved the gourd to his lips, just the way it had for the man's cock as well. The young prince blushed even hotter at that stray thought. Trying to hide it, he craned his neck and let Jack drip cold water onto his waiting tongue.

The older man was very careful, just pouring enough that he didn't **** or splutter. As Marcus drank, he couldn't help but wonder why. These people hated him, didn't they? Lyra clearly did, and Jack did everything she said. Only...he'd argued against her, saved the young prince from being **** by the whole town. What was going on here? Suddenly, Marcus felt like he had to ask. As Jack pulled the gourd away, he raised his head, struggling to find the courage to speak.

"Why?" He asked, his voice hoarse and soft. "Why are you helping me?" Jack paused a moment, his gaze falling to the ground. He almost seemed ashamed.

"Fuck, kid..." He breathed. "I know who you are, what your family's done to me and so many others, but you're just so young. Lyra...she's carrying a lot of anger in her. It's why she's been able to do so much for us, to suffer all she has and keep coming back, but it's also left her harder than she needs to be. When it comes to you and your kind, she's got no pity left. I owe her everything, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stand by and let a kid like you suffer more than what's right."

"But you still **** me." Marcus spat, torn between anger and the odd, insistent feeling he should be thanking the older man for protecting him.

"Yes, I did." Jack nodded. "And I'm not going to pretend that was some kind of noble act just because it saved you from so much worse. It wasn't. You're pretty enough to make any man want you and I'm no different. When Lyra made the offer, I couldn't help myself." The young prince glanced down, his cheeks red-hot. Why did that feel good to hear? Why had his heart skipped a beat? This was all so strange, like he couldn't even trust his own feelings anymore. "Listen kid." Jack continued, his low, manly voice sending strange flutters down into Marcus' belly. "I'll do what I can for you, but even I agree with Lyra that you need punished for what you're family's done. Someone has to be, if this country's going to heal. You'll have a hard few months, but once it's over I'll make sure she keeps her word and lets you go free. I promise you that."

Marcus pushed away the warm feelings those words stirred in his rebellious heart, forcing himself to focus instead on the awful unfairness of all this. Jack might be **** than the others, but he was still a traitor who'd gone against his own King and Queen! Telling all these awful lies, pretending like the royal family had done anything wrong at all! It wasn't right! Mustering his courage, Marcus craned his neck in the pillory and looked the brawny man right in the eye.

"My family did nothing wrong." He snapped, his voice shrill. "You're the traitors!" Jack paused a moment, his dark eyes narrowing.

"Quiet, boy." He rumbled, the simmering anger in his voice making the young prince's lips snap shut. "You don't want to talk like that, not to me."

Shivering in the pillory, Marcus stared down at the ground, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut after all. No matter how true his words were, it had been really silly to anger Jack that way. Now he'd upset the one person who'd bothered to defend him. What if when Lyra came back she had something else awful planned for him? Jack would probably go along with it too instead of protecting him! The thought made him shudder, a wet little sniffle escaping his lips.

Worse still, without the distraction of talking to Jack, he noticed the small crowd gathering in the square in front of him, pointing and laughing at his naked body. It made him feel sick, knowing all these dirty peasants were mocking him. Soon he was sobbing again, trembling like a leaf in the uncomfortable pillory. A whole day of this. How was he going to make it through that?