Iliad pulled on Cache's shirt. "And where do you think you're going so late tonight? I want to play a game."

"Out." Cache jerked back from his little sister. Her games were twisted and deranged. The last time she had lost a game of chess against him, Iliad had started pulling on her dress. He wanted nothing to do with it.

King Ryn shook his head and addressed Cyka as Cache left out the palace doors. "You've always coddled that boy, Cyka. He just won't make it on the outside."

"Ryn, honey," Cyka cooed back. "He has the blood of the ancients in him, he will be fine." That was the last of their conversation he heard as he stepped out onto the street.

The air is cool on Cache's face, Autumn has finally made it to Wiscard. He found no reason to not have some fun tonight, the mistoa slave was unlikely to show up in the morning. Their kind was always unreliable.

Cache found himself where he eventually ended up anyways: the Lornkey Bar that sat between the slums and noble quarters. The silvery building had hologram advertisements blinking into the darkness of night; each color was brighter than the last. The alcohol was cheap and the women were even cheaper. Cache wouldn't mind having a warm body tonight, it's been awhile anyway. He walked into the bar and instantly was recognized by the regular occupants.

"Prince Cache! Come sit with us, my Lord!" The owner of the establishment, an older man with withered, tan skin, shouted from the back. Cache could never remember his name, it had never been important enough.

Cache sat down at the corner table to be by himself instead. Dancers frequented the bar and liked to get up on the tables for entertainment. The more outgoing women were always front and center, but he wanted someone calmer. Of course it was all for how much drakma you would throw at them. A few dolarra would warrant a dance. While a few pedesets would make sure she would lead Cache back to the designated rooms. There were a few steps in between but Cache didn't care about those.

The dancers arrived, one of them being a mixed Tek'arc. Cache rolled his eyes, not wanting to be reminded of the girl from earlier today. That didn't matter, however, the Tek'arc approached Cache's table, fully aware that he had money. She was pretty enough for him. Cache couldn't help but miss the white freckles that decorated Varsa's skin. Cache shook his head as if to get her out of his mind.

Varsa was the scum of the earth, dirt beneath his shoe, nothing more. It was a shame she was so pretty, but he knew more than anyone, you can't have everything.

The Tek'arc leaned against the table towards the Prince, her ragged clothes left nothing to the imagination. "What will it be tonight, love?"

Cache threw a small bag full of pedesets on the table, enough to make any lower class live well for the rest of their life. It was nothing for Cache to throw that kind of drakma around.

"What can that get me?" Cache asked, throwing back a couple of sour shots of alcohol that burned his throat.

The Tek'arc's mouth and eyes both grew wide. "A-anything you want, handsome... I will even give you the special treatment."

Cache slid out from the table and motioned towards the back with a smile playing at his lips. These aliens had no morals. They were nothing more than mongering, disease-ridden whores. Their price was so low, even an ant would turn his nose up at it. It was one of the reasons humans were a dying breed. The alien women would throw their clothes off at anything that clinked like drakma.

"Lead the way." Cache had needs, no matter what his mother wished. She wanted him to only mate with pureblood humans, which left the options small. He would always sneak out to the bar when they got in a fight, just to rub it in her face that he slept with anyone other than pure blood.

Cache, although selfish and narcissistic, still wanted something real with someone. Anyone. As long as it wasn't his sister. He was never embarrassed to be with strangers, it gave him what he needed temporarily. He had never been taught how to love, so having a real relationship was out of the question.

His mother wanted him to marry Iliad so that their bloodline stayed pure. The thought turned his stomach, but the royal family had been doing it for hundreds of years. The fact that his father wasn't also his uncle surprised him to this day.

The Tek'arc led him into the room and shut the door behind her. After it was said and done, Cache didn't hold the woman who laid out, naked and drained of all energy, on the bed. Her sweaty, purple skin appeared radiant in the moonlight that crept from the window. His body begged him to lay back down, but he got dressed instead.

"You don't have to leave." Her words were sweet like honey, they tugged on Cache's judgment. "If you keep that up, you can stay as long as you want, love." He left the bedroom, sickened. She had no damn respect. None of them did.

Cache hung around the bar a little while longer, spending every cent in the pouch he brought on drinks. The alcohol made his body fuzzy and warm, it was perfect for the cool air he was about to walk in. Opening the bar door to walk home, Cache had to grasp the door frame to keep himself upright. He chuckled to himself, his fuzzy head sent tingles down his spine.

When he looked up, Cache couldn't believe his luck. Varsa was sprinting down the road towards the inn. He squinted to make sure it was her.

"Does she work at the bar too? Damn... I could have had a galaxy under me tonight, instead, I got a grape."

Their eyes locked on one another. She slid to a stop, like a child who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to. She gazed at the bar and then down the road in the direction she was headed. She was a gazelle and he was a mighty lion. He had her cornered.

"Hey. Hey, Tek'arc scu- thief! What are you doing so late at night?" Cache's speech slurred. Her eyes darted around for an excuse to be out.

"I was getting provisions." She said, hoping he wouldn't notice the lack of stuff in her arms. "What are you doing?" Her eyes darted to the sign above his head and then back down to him. "At a bar, no less."

Cache burped and approached Varsa, his feet stumbled to her. He didn't like the way she talked to him, as if she were better. "Provisions, huh? Why are your hands... So empty then? You think you're better than me don't you? Hmm?" He looked back at the bar and back to her. "Well, just so you know, dirt face, I was getting my own... kind of provisions." He chuckled at the look of disgust on her face. "I guess we both screwed up tonight. It's late... and dangerous around these parts." He leaned in close to her. "And you have no weapon! And look at you. Were your 'provisions' rolling around in the dirt? Why are you bleeding?" He jabbed at her chin, but she ducked out of the way.

Varsa scrunched her face up at him as he talked. Her eyebrows furrowed as she opened and closed her mouth for a second, having trouble finding the right words.

"So, you should be safe walking home, then." She gave him a small smile and a nod. Her eyes darted behind her once more then back to Cache. "Um... are you going to be okay walking home? Got anyone with you?"

"Of course!" Cache wrapped his arm around Varsa. "I have you to help me home! My feet... my feet are kind of not working right now." Cache chuckled about his own joke. "But!" He giggled. "I have a sword! No! I have two swords! One is at my hip! And the other-"

"No!" She cut him off, shoving him away. "That's not what I meant." She flinched away from the smell of his breath. He stumbled back to her, his body weight pressed on her sore and bruised shoulders as he threw himself back on her. Varsa winced. She tried to readjust him but it was like trying to get a wet noodle to stand up straight. "I have to get home. I don't have time to take you back to the palace."

"Oh... That's okay. I will walk you home then. As I said, these parts are dangerous and I got a sword! There are so many of you filthy mist-..." He stopped seeing the anger on her face. "A bunch of scummy people are around here." Cache gripped Varsa's arm to try to drag her away. Something in his drunk mind told him not to challenge her too much.

"People like me, you mean." She ducked under his arm but held him up so he wouldn't fall over. If he got home with bruises on him, it would be blamed on her. Once she was sure he was balanced enough, she stepped away from him. Her eyebrows were knitted together in anger. "I will be fine, thank you for the offer. You should sleep this off."

He waved her off. "Come now. Don't be so difficult." He started walking in her home's general direction. "I know where it is anyways." He stopped, scratching his head, his blond hair falling in his eyes. "Well... sorta anyways. Come! I will protect you." He said the last part as he stumbled and almost fell to the ground himself.

Varsa caught his arm and groaned. "Thaldon, give me strength..." She whispered. He stumbled pushing a trash can over. "Damn it. Come on, then... Just, keep your hands to yourself." She sighed. It was useless arguing with a drunk, she knew that all too well.

The walk wasn't long. Many of the other dancers lived in the general area of Varsa, the only reason Cache knew of her location. Cache never shut up when he was drunk, driving Varsa up the wall.

"Did you know I come from an ancient bloodline of pure-blooded humans?!" He grinned. "That is why my eyes are golden!" His grin fell as Varsa groaned.

That fact usually got him a lot further with people than it seemed to her. Most were impressed. She seemed much less impressed. More, bored? He couldn't make up his mind, but it wasn't the reaction he was going for.

"Did you know that Father named me after the Cache constellation? It only shows up during winter." He tried again.

"Fascinating," Varsa grumbled, directing him away from an abandoned cartwheel that was sitting in the middle of the road.

"It is!" His drunk brain had struck gold. "I like stars. That's why I love your freckles. You're absolutely covered in constellations!" Cache ran his fingers over her exposed arm, mesmerized by her skin.

Varsa shivered under his touch and stepped away from him, but not too far so she could still catch him if he fell. She rubbed her arms, her eyes watching him closely, unsure of the game he was playing.

Cache frowned. What was wrong with this girl? She was just complimented by a Prince! Yet, she acted like she wanted nothing to do with his praise. He couldn't believe he had just told an alien he liked something about her and she didn't fall to her knees to worship him. That was wrong, even his drunken brain knew that.

"That's nice..."

They stopped in front of the shack that Varsa called home. Cache wondered how anyone could live in such run-down conditions. A strange new sadness came over him. It was an emotion he didn't feel often. The alcohol magnified the emotion as he furrowed his brows and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Home sweet home..." Sadness even laced Cache's voice. He turned to look at Varsa.

"Yup. This is it. The place where I grew up." She smiled at it. It wasn't much, but it was hers.

Cache reached out and touched one of the braids that had flipped over Varsa's shoulder. He knew that braids meant power to their breed. His grandfather had banned the wearing of braids when he was a child, but Varsa, as always, didn't seem to care for the rules. King Ryn hardly enforced the rules his late father had set into place anyways. He liked to read about their customs, they were more civilized than most other races. Although, he would never say it out loud.

"I like your hair," Cache spoke up anyway. He went up and kissed Varsa on the cheek before walking in the direction of the palace. He made sure the shock had left his face before he waved to her, but she was already inside.

Cache made it back to the palace and to his bed, to his own amazement. The Lornkey alcohol may be cheap but it was the most potent that Cache had found yet. He laid in his bed and thought of Varsa, despite his best efforts not to. Her presence was something he had never experienced before.

Cache was used to people, especially women, being scared of him. His power made him feel invincible. Not around Varsa, though. That frightened him. He was used to having control, but Varsa was the one who controlled his mind. Cache secretly wished that tonight would stain his memories. He knew the alcohol would make him forget most of it.