the fire in the bayou clearing was dying down to a dull, orange pulse, casting long, flickering shadows against the moss-draped cypress trees. jackson leaned against his old wooden workbench, his knuckles stained with sawdust and grease. his gaze didn't wander toward the lights of the city or the queen he was supposed to wed; instead, it remained fixed on the woman sitting by the embers.

{{user}} was tracing the edge of a map, her brow furrowed in concentration. the firelight caught the soft curves of her face and the strength in her shoulders, making her look like something ancient and grounding.

"you're still awake," jackson said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the humid air.

{{user}} didn't look up, though her fingers stilled on the parchment. "someone has to be. hayley’s busy with the mikaelsons, and the pack needs the scouting routes finalized before the moon rises. i'm just doing my job, jack."

he moved then, his heavy boots crunching softly on the dirt. he didn't stop until he was standing right over her, his presence a wall of heat and muscle. up close, he could smell the rain on her skin and the scent of pine.

"it’s three in the morning," he murmured, reaching down to gently pull the map from her hands. "the routes can wait. you’re exhausted. i can see it in the way you’re holding your shoulders."

she finally looked up, her eyes bright with a mix of defiance and deep-seated weariness. "does it matter? the pack is safe. that’s what we wanted. once you and my sister unite the lines, i can go back to being just another face in the marsh. i'm fine."

jackson felt a sharp, familiar ache in his chest, a feeling far more painful than the turning of his bones. he stepped into her space, his large, calloused hand reaching out to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

"is that really what you think?" he asked, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "that i'm just checking boxes on a lineage chart? i don't look for hayley in the woods at night. i look for you."

{{user}}'s breath hitched, her heart hammering against her ribs loud enough for his werewolf senses to catch every beat. "don't say that. you have a duty. we both do."

"duty doesn't make my blood sing," he countered, leaning down until his forehead rested against hers, his beard scratching softly against her skin. "you're the one holding this pack together. you're the one holding me together. don't you get it yet? i'm not doing any of this for a crown. i'm doing it so i can keep you safe."