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Summary
"You said you wouldn't go back as long as Tybolt lived and now he's dead and you're still denying me."
"I'm not denying you!" Robin snapped. "The second I go back they will resent my acquaintance with a prince, and they will sabotage it."
"They don't have that power," he said, his pride stung at acquaintance, and let Robin's hand trace his cheek, down to his jaw.
"They do. And I will not compromise you by having you defend me," he said firmly, then smiled faintly. "I am a little like your knight, that way."
Aerion leaned down, far enough into Robin's space that the man seemed uneasy. "I will not return to Westeros without you," he said, "so eventually if you do not want to face the wrath of the royal family, you will just give me what I want."
Robin smiled faintly through the haze of their proximity. "Brat," he hummed.