#caris

took a while to figure out the game, dump, and assemble these hahaha :p i tried to keep them game-accurate, i think these are all of the skinship sprites... will look into assembling the tank sprites later!

“I thought Rhys was sending the pretty one.” Eris made a face, crinkling his nose at Cassian.

“I am the pretty one, you just have poor taste.” Cassian grinned.

Eris quirked a brow, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Someone’s learned the art of a good quip. Have you been practicing in a mirror?”

“There is only one thing I do in front of a mirror, High Lord,” Cassian said before he could stop himself. “And I definitely don’t need practice for it.”

The innuendo hung in the air between them. Then Eris let out a laugh.

“Cocky bastard,” he said, standing. “Come along, I don’t have all day.”

Eris stood and straightened his clothes. Cassian noted the tighter white tunic that clung to his form and the similarly tight brown trousers. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his scent in check. Eris was always good looking but when he tried- he was a down right devil. Cassian relaxed his wings as he followed, the side corridor empty of even guards. He openly stared at Eris as he walked in front of him, those fucking tight pants excentuating the curve of his ass. Gods he was going to murder Rhys for sending him.

They entered a side room a few doors down. It wasn’t the usual conference room; smaller with a round table in the middle. At least the chairs had a low back for his wings. Cassian looked over at Eris as he pulled a stack of paper from a pocket realm and sat them down on the table. He could see the tension in his shoulders from where he stood by the door.

“You look stiff,” Cassian’s voice rolled out in a low rumble. “You need help with that?”

“What I need is for you to stop flirting,” Eris grumbled. “We have a negotiation to discuss. Rhys thinks he’s so fucking clever.”

“Why is that?” Cass grinned.

Eris cut his eyes up to him. “He thinks he can send a pretty face to distract me.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t the pretty one,” his grin widened.

“I lie when it suits me, you know this. Now sit.” He gestured to a chair at the table.

“Do I get a reward if I behave?”

Eris didn’t react. Instead he sat across from him and ignored that remark. Cassian sat down and they proceeded to review each and every single document. An hour in and Cassian’s eyes were crossing at all the terms and conditions Eris was laying out for his agreement renewal. Nothing was changing- just the annual review.

“How many more of these do you have,” Cassian groaned, laying his head on his arms that rested on the table.

“I can add at least 20 more pages if you keep grumbling.” Eris crossed his arms and leaned back in his own chair. “If you’re bored, you can call Azriel to take your place.”

Cassian lifted his head and shot him a glare. It only made Eris smirk at him.

Eris added,“that’s what I thought you big oaf.” Oh how Cassian was going to fuck that sarcasm right out of him when this was over. “Focus, and I’ll give you a treat.”

“Can’t we take a break?” Cassian tried to ask nicely.

“Your idea of a break cost me a table last time.”

“Only cause you said ‘harder’.”

Cassian didn’t regret breaking that table. He doubted Eris did too and just threw something out to try and embarrass him. Eris’s amber gaze flickered over Cassian as he sat up. The High Lord once again rolled his eyes.

“There’s literally only thirty pages left.”

“Thirty too many.”

“Impatient brute.”

“You know Rhys doesn’t care about this. If he did, he’d be here himself.”

Cassian crossed his arms against his chest again. He could smell Eris from across the table no matter how much the High Lord tried to dampen his scent. Cassian didn’t hide his own. The whole room would stink with it for all he cared.

“I could have slipped something in the contract in these last thirty pages.” Eris had that arrogant smirk on him- his lying one.

“Rhys knows you’re a good enough male to not do that. This is just for theatrics.”

“Rhys only thinks he knows what kind of male I am.” Cassian chuckled at the annoyance in his tone.

“I know what kind male you are.” Cassian lowered his voice. “A very, very good one.”

Eris was on him immediately. He laughed as the normally stoic High Lord pressed his lips to his own and straddled his lap. Eris could say what he wanted, Cassian always got what he wanted. Always. His hands immediately grabbed his ass to pull him up his lap. He also opened his mouth a little coaxing Eris to deepen the kiss but the High Lord wasn’t having it.

“You know I can’t stand when you do that, you absolute bastard,” Eris pulled back and worked at Cassian’s clips but not making much progress. “Take these off before I burn them off.”

“These are my good leathers. You burn this off, I’ll have Rhys send Azriel next time.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, General.” His amber eyes blazed as he smirked. “Though maybe next time Rhys can send you both.”

“No,” Cassian scowled. “This is our time. I am not sharing it.”

Eris hummed. “Not even with say, Nesta?”

In a swift movement, Cassian was up and tossed Eris onto the table hard. Eris’s moan was almost a growl and he shoved the papers aside, some falling onto the floor. It took Cassian a moment to realize exactly what Eris did, especially with him smirking at him.

“Ass.”

“I can play your game too, General.” Eris sat up on his elbows. “Do not break this table or I’m billing your High Lord for damages.”

Cassian just grinned.

It would begin in a setting charged with tension. Perhaps a formal meeting between courts—a high-stakes negotiation where Cassian, representing the Night Court, would once again meet Eris Vanserra, the calculating and haughty heir of the Autumn Court. The air would be thick with barely concealed disdain. Cassian, his broad shoulders stiff with the need to fight, would scowl as Eris approached, every inch the aristocrat in his pristine armor, hair as red as autumn leaves shimmering in the firelight.

Cassian’s hands would flex, instinctively wanting to curl into fists, but Rhysand’s warning echoed in his mind: This is diplomacy, not a battlefield.

Eris’s eyes would flicker over Cassian, amusement dancing in them. "You’re looking particularly brutish today, General," he’d say, his voice a slow, taunting drawl.

"Careful, Eris," Cassian would growl, "I bite."

But in those heated exchanges, something subtle would shift. Cassian would notice the flicker of something behind Eris’s sharp words—a vulnerability hidden beneath layers of cruelty. Eris, for all his manipulation and cunning, wasn’t as impervious as he seemed. The idea would gnaw at Cassian, whether he liked it or not.

The next step toward something deeper would come not from a shared desire, but necessity. Both courts, forced into an alliance against a common enemy, would demand that Cassian and Eris work together. Rhysand and Feyre would push for it, and though Cassian would hate the idea, he would have no choice. The battlefield would demand cooperation.

At first, their partnership would be a disaster. Their egos would clash—Cassian's brute force against Eris’s strategic mind. But slowly, as they fought side by side, something unexpected would emerge: respect. Cassian would begrudgingly admire how Eris maneuvered the battlefield with precision, directing their forces like a chess master. Eris would begin to see beyond Cassian's brute strength, recognizing the fierce loyalty and protectiveness that drove him.

After one particularly brutal fight, where they narrowly escaped death, Eris would look at Cassian with something akin to curiosity. He’d mutter, half to himself, "You’re not as idiotic as you look, you know."

Cassian, breathless from battle, would chuckle, wiping blood from his face. "You’re not as much of a prick as I thought."

That would be the first moment where the heat between them wasn’t just anger—it was something more complex. A shared understanding, a respect for each other's skills, and maybe even the first glimmer of attraction.

But their walls would only come down slowly, piece by piece. The real turning point would happen one night when they were forced to take shelter in a cave, the flames of their campfire casting shadows on the walls. The air would be tense, the quiet between them thick with unspoken words.

Cassian, ever the direct one, would break the silence first. "Why do you do it, Eris? Play their games? Your father’s? Beron’s? You’re better than him."

Eris’s eyes would flash, his cold mask slipping for just a second. "You think I have a choice, Cassian? You think I enjoy being trapped under my father’s rule?"

The vulnerability in Eris’s voice would catch Cassian off guard. He’d expected the usual snide remarks, but instead, there was rawness. For once, Eris wasn’t playing a game. Cassian would be quiet for a moment before he said, "I don’t know your life, but I know what it’s like to feel trapped."

Eris would scoff, the mask slipping back into place. "Please, you were raised by the Night Court’s High Lord, free to be your brutish self."

"I was raised in a war camp," Cassian would snap, the words coming out harsher than he meant. "I wasn’t even part of the Night Court until Rhys made me one of his own. And for a long time, I felt like I didn’t deserve it. Like I didn’t belong."

Eris would go still, staring at Cassian as if seeing him for the first time. He wouldn’t say anything, but there would be an understanding between them, a shared pain that neither of them had spoken aloud before.

Over time, that understanding would deepen. The sarcastic jabs between them would soften into something more playful, and the tension that once had them at each other’s throats would turn into a different kind of tension altogether. It would happen slowly, almost without them realizing it.

The first kiss would come after a particularly heated argument. Eris, tired of pretending, would shove Cassian against a wall in frustration, his hands shaking with fury. Cassian, breathing hard, would grab Eris’s wrists, the heat between them crackling like a fire. And then, without thinking, they’d both lean in—anger turning into something much more explosive.

Afterward, they wouldn’t talk about it. Not at first. The confusion and denial would eat away at both of them. They would fall back into old patterns, bickering and fighting, but now there would be an undercurrent of desire in every word, every glance.

Eventually, though, they wouldn’t be able to ignore it anymore. One night, after another battle, Cassian would find Eris standing alone by a river, staring out at the water. Cassian would approach, silent for once, and stand beside him.

Eris wouldn’t look at him, but after a long pause, he’d say, "It’s easier to hate you, you know."

Cassian would nod, understanding exactly what he meant. "Yeah. Same."

They’d stand there for a long time, the silence between them comfortable now, filled with the weight of everything they’d been through. And then, softly, Eris would admit, "I don’t hate you anymore."

Cassian’s heart would twist at the words. He’d look at Eris, and for the first time, he’d see past the sharp exterior to the man beneath—the one who’d been fighting his own demons for far longer than Cassian had ever known. And he’d realize, with a start, that he didn’t hate Eris either. Not even close.

They wouldn’t need to say the words. Their love would be unspoken, a fire burning quietly between them. But it would be real, undeniable, and powerful.