“They will think I’m only rubbing salt into their wounds,” Maddie sighed, facing the empty seats as she stood on the edge of the stage.
Sebastian didn’t know the wounds she spoke of, only that she was referring to her cousins, whom hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks, after all Maddie never shared a secret that wasn’t hers, only tiptoed around it when she needed to think out loud.
Although the theater had closed for the night, it was then that Sebastian’s work began, well more of Director Catherine’s work, and him as her assistant.
“Their issue is with each other, not you Madison.” The director’s voice echoed the empty hall, she occupied one of the hundreds of empty seats.
Leaning on the chair prop, Sebastian tried to piece together the pieces of information he had. Maddie’s cousins, whom she considered her sisters, had fallen out. He knew little else on Maddie, but knew that her father owned the theater, owned multiple theaters, he knew that she went by Maddie and never Madison Hale to avoid being targeted by that last name, a name which could easily buy the entirety of Manhattan.
Maddie spun around as a door creaked open in the distance, followed by the steady echoing of heels as the Hale princess walked towards them, unimpressed; she wore sunglasses although it was night, and hadn’t taken off her coat although the theater had heaters.
Maddie squealed and ran to her cousin, genuinely grateful that she had done her this favor and agreed to the “therapy” session.
It was the farthest thing from therapy, but Maddie knew no one better than the director to ask for help, and Sebastian couldn’t blame her, he had seen the magic of Catherine O’Dell, had seen her mold together the most infuriated enemies into their assigned roles of lovers, with more chemistry than two had a right to have.
The director made her way to the stage, even though they were one Hale down. Once the princess noticed her approach, she apologized for her tardiness, blaming it on traffic.
Brushing it off as she always did, the director held out a hand, more so as a test than formality, “Catherine.”
“Jade Hale.” The princess shook her hand, her confidence backed by her last name, her tone daring anyone to go against her.
There was no need for Sebastian to be there, his job was to retrieve the props, or to break apart fights, but during the actual session, he was as useful as the director’s chair. Not that it mattered, he had nothing else to do, nothing as entertaining as a Hale family feud anyways.
Jade Hale barely resembled her cousin, where Maddie had a head of curls and the energy of the sun, Jade was as calm and calculated as a black cat, not a wrinkle in her dress, not a straightened hair out of place. She was all sharp edges and daring thoughts. Suitable, Sebastian thought, Jade truly fitted the Hale princess title, and did not shy away from it like Maddie.
A dramatic singular applause sounded from the other side of the room. All eyes turned to the sea of red seats only to find the remaining Hale more than amused at the situation.
“What a setting you chose for the occasion, Mads,” she called out, making her way to the stage.
The more Sebastian analyzed the newcomer the more layers he peeled back, beneath the short blond bob, wild blue eyes, and red lips, Sebastian saw the buzzing energy which flowed through Maddie, and as she walked towards them, he saw the confidence of Jade, saw the neatness of her twin, the arrogance only a Hale had a right to have.
“You must be the incredible director Mads is so fond of,” with a hand in her pocket, she offered the other to the director. “I’m Blair Hale.”
Her introduction and the faint details Sebastian knew made her all the more entertaining to him. Her first name outweighed her last, Blair was the risk taker, the freelancer, the one who’s well known for her achievements and not her last name.
To Blair, the name Hale was a toy gun she played around with; To Jade, her gun was locked and loaded, and at that precise moment, her aim was set on her twin.
“Should we have a seat.” The director’s voice cut through the tension, and as they turned to the set-up on the stage which he had prepared earlier, they seemed to notice Sebastian for the first time.
“And you are?” Blair asked a dangerous sparkle in her eyes.
“My assistant.” The director responded, opening her notebook, then spoke up again as Blair headed to the chair. “On the couch please, Blair.”
The obnoxiously blue couch, which was occupied on one end by Jade.
Having pushed her glasses to the top of her head, Jade’s eye roll was on display for everyone as Blair dramatically plopped down beside her.
“How are we doing this?” asked Blair. “Are we supposed to tell you our deep dark secrets,” her tone lowered in a theatrical secrecy. “Or perhaps you want all the nitty and gritty details on how daddy loved one of us more, and that led to her being this stuck up—”
“—Blair,” Maddie cut in.
Amused blue eyes slid to Maddie, “all jokes, little sis.”
Her words sent Sebastian's thoughts in turmoil, had their father loved Blair more, and that’s why she had more freedom than Jade, that’s why she was a loud force and filled with jokes. Or had he loved Jade more, and therefore he named her heir of the Hale empire.
Sebastian's gaze shifted to the princess, only to find a withering glare analyzing him, her eyes weren’t set on him but through him, as if she had access to his every thought, every wish.
“We will proceed with a set of activities,” the director spoke at last, drawing all attention to her. “The activities will strengthen your bond and root your issue…” As she continued on, Sebastian watched the tension between the sisters, watched the unbothered act Blair withheld begin to fade, watched the innocent hopefulness shine through Maddie.
And yet Jade remained the same, cold and calculated as she analyzed the director.
It was more than obvious that at some point their feud had ventured farther than they had let it, farther back through years of repressed emotions, piles of brutal comments, scars of nasty looks. It was no longer an argument, but a final battle with an endless source of rage.
“Look at one another,” said the director, then gave them a second to follow her order before continuing. “Now hold hands.”
Blair broke first, a laugh burst from her which died down as she took in the director’s expression. “Oh… you’re being serious,” her hesitant gaze slid between her sister and the director.
“I don’t bite,” said Jade, extending a hand.
Before Sebastian could register her words, both Maddie and Blair voiced their disagreement. Loudly.
The director then assured them there would be no biting, only that they had to hold hands, and even then, Blair was hesitant as she took her sister’s hand, driving Sebastian's curiosity even higher.
To add to the theatrics of it all, Jade ran her tongue over her teeth while looking Blair in the eyes, a ghost of a taunting memory glistened their eyes.
“Ten minutes, break eye contact and we restart the timer.” The director turned to Sebastian, ensuring he had the timer ready on his phone.
“Scared B?” Jade asked, her entire focus set on her sister.
Comparing them, Sebastian found the question comical. Blair was the risktaker, the one who abandoned her family legacy for her own gain, the one with no trust fund safety net, and yet a mere staring contest with her twin set her on edge.
Sebastian cared little for their “healing” journey, and more for the details, for entirely selfish reasons, Sebastian wanted to know more, wanted to understand them, in that moment he would have spent all three wishes on the Hale sisters with no regret.
Halfway through, the director spoke up again, “you do not have to just hold hands, the essence of touch can mean any physical form, put a hand on her head, a finger on her face.”
Neither one moved at first, till Blair lifted her free hand and flicked Jade’s nose. Jade hadn’t flinched away, hadn’t stopped her either, it seemed like a familiar gesture between them.
In retaliation, Jade reached out and ruffled Blairs hair, having been bleached multiple times, her hair, dry as Sebastian's, it stood out at awkward angles.
Neither one backed away after that, a line crossed, messing with each other’s hair, poking, teasing. The director had been pleased with the simmering fight, but Sebastian shifted closer to intervene if needed. The humor had long died out, gnarly insults replaced the sarcastic jokes, soft voices replaced with raw tones.
And yet Sebastian couldn’t pick up what caused their fight in the first place.
His phone blared, informing everyone that the ten minutes were over, but neither of them cared.
Infuriated as she was, Blair pushed off the couch, “it was all your fault.” Her charged words were accompanied by a pointed finger.
“Oh please,” Jade scoffed, her shield broken and yet she was nowhere near as furious as Blair was. “You left. After everything, you left us behind, that’s hardly my fault B.” She stood then, running a hand through the dark silky strands of hair Blair had messed with.
Blair charged for her sister and Sebastian took that as his cue to intervene. Looping a hand around her waist, he pulled Blair away from Jade.
“Let’s take a deep breath,” said the director, the only one seated, as Maddie made her way to Jade.
The deep breath did nothing to calm the tension, but it settled their nerves.
Although Sebastian's hold on Blair was barely there, he could feel her heart rattling against her ribcage, but it wasn’t her who had his attention, it was a piercing gaze across the room, green eyes that trailed his hands, that danced with thoughts he would have begged on his knees to know.
Blair tapped his arm, “you can let go now, I won’t do anything.”
His gaze slowly fell from a pair of green eyes to the blue ones staring back at him. “Who says I’m not holding you back for selfish reasons?”
Blair snorted a laugh, pushing his arm away with minimal effort, then sat back down on the couch.
“Now for one of Maddie’s favorite scenes, you will be acting it out then answer my question.” The director aimed a look at Sebastian, but he had already set off to retrieve the items, even though he didn’t think it was wise to put weapons in their hands at the moment, his intrigue and trust in the director out weight his concern.
He gave each one their script and a wooden sword.
Maddie also got a script, but she knew the scene by heart, a training practice for everyone who acted on Catherine's stage.
Sebastian began to understand Maddie’s comment earlier as he watched them act out their dialogue.
“I thought you cared for your kingdom,” read off Blair. “Cared for your family.”
“I do not care for traitors,” read Jade, the sentence taken a toll with their earlier argument.
Sebastian had heard those words repeated in training time and time again, but it was as if he had been hearing them for the first time.
A new meaning to each word, a new emotion powering each syllable.
When they turn to Maddie, their eyes filled with love and pride, but once they turned back to one another, love had withered into ash, a storm of betrayal took its place.
On paper, they followed their cues, they began the sword fight as ordered, but the script had slipped Sebastian's mind, the crack of wood against itself echoed in the empty theater like thunder.
It was Jade who advanced first, Jade who overpowered her sister, Jade who knew the rest of her dialogue with no script.
But at some point, the battle had shifted, because Jade was the one with control, the one who shielded her emotions, not Blair the boundless chaos who had a target and an endless source of rage.
It was not a battle, but a dance, not an act but a war.
At that moment he prayed to never be on the receiving end of that rage, the Hale sisters fought dirty because it was permissible as long as they won, at least that was what Maddie had told them, the only thing is, they had never fought dirty against one another. They didn’t know limits, didn’t know start from end. With teeth bared and hearts racing, they only ever knew one way to end it, to win, no matter the cost.
Blair had a point to prove and they had put the sword in her hand, though this time Sebastian couldn’t hold her back. She advanced with more force each time, advanced with more rage, more devastation.
On her final blow, Sebastian had been too close to not act, too disturbed to stand aside, especially as Maddie tried to get between them and was shoved away.
Jade held her sword overhead against Blairs sword, her arms trembling, her whispers filled with her sister’s name.
Jade was no longer playing; Blair was no longer acting.
As he reached Jade, Blair had shoved her harder then backed away entirely, sending Jade off balance, but he was right there, and instead of falling to the ground, Jade crashed back into him.
The shield long forgotten, Jade yelled for her sister, her actions charged and ready but unaware of the hand the director had raised, the silent order Sebastian was given.
Jade lifted a foot but did not take the step as he held her back, his grip tight, his fear of a situation gone out of hand racing through his thoughts.
By this point, the subjects of the sessions were more so in control of their actions, they were attentive of their surroundings, to the directors’ orders, but these two were ready to kill one another.
Sebastian’s gaze slid from Maddie’s worried wide eyes to the withering ones he felt like a whisper of a threat on his skin.
He would have been lying to himself if he remained behind his ice wall shield of professionalism, this one was different, this session was personal, and he was too mesmerized by them to walk away, like a magnetic force they drew every drop of his attention.
“Ladies, I cannot help if—” The director was cut off by Blairs soft tone, which threw everyone off guard.
“All I wanted was for you to have my back.” the sword hung loosely by her side.
Jade’s gaze was still set on him, but her mind was elsewhere, her eyes drifted in thought. “I always do,” she responded, back within the comfort of her shield.
“You ran to him the minute she died,” Blair seethed.
This time she had won Jade’s entire focus.
Unsettled by her tone, Sebastian did not let go of Jade, his mind split between the steps Blair took and her words. He knew their mother had passed away, even without the full story, he knew devouring grief when he saw it.
It sharpened the eyes, clung to their skin, as smoke from a cigarette does. No matter how many times he washed it off, it was more than visible the next day, more than a phantom of guilt entrapping him to memories.
Jade spoke up after a moment, “and you ran away, Blair.”
“I—”
“You left me first.” The rawness to her words was there, no matter how hard she fought to keep her voice steady.
Blair scoffed a laugh, taming her hair. “Ladies and gentlemen, Jade Vienne Hale, the princess, the theater kid, the victim,” she ended her speech with an applause then walked away.
Sebastian could feel the exhaustion that ran deep through Jade’s bones, feel the longing beg and plead in her thoughts as she watched her sister leave.
Again.
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