the heavy scent of jasmine and expensive bourbon hung thick over the mikaelson balcony, but all {{user}} could smell was the sharp, metallic tang of blood from the indoor fountain. it made her skin itch. she smoothed the silk of her dress, feeling the way the fabric clung to her curves, and tried to shrink into the shadows. she was the spare labonair, the one without the crown or the hybrid child, and the glitter of the french quarter felt like a gilded cage.

the glass door creaked open behind her. she didn't need to turn around to know the steady, grounding scent of pine needles and river water. jackson stepped into the moonlight, his broad shoulders stretching the limits of his suit jacket. he looked rugged even in formal wear, his dark hair messy and his jaw set in a line of quiet frustration.

"thought i might find you out here," he said, his voice a low rasp that vibrated in the small space between them.

{{user}} let out a breath she’d been holding since they arrived. "she’s the queen, and i’m just... the sister with the bite," she whispered, her fingers knotting into the railing until her knuckles turned white. "i don't belong in there, jackson. i'm just a shadow in a room full of monsters."

jackson moved closer, the heat radiating off his muscular frame cutting through the humid night air. he didn't look back toward the ballroom where hayley stood at the center of the political storm. he only had eyes for the woman in front of him. he reached out, his large, calloused hand covering hers on the railing, steadying her.

"and i'm the man who's supposed to want the queen," he muttered, his hazel eyes dark with a yearning he couldn't quite mask. "but god help me, i’m looking at you."