May 7, 2021 -
Las Vegas, NevadaIt was later than expected, well after the events of the 300th edition of Climax Control had reached its conclusion. But Las Vegas was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy, and where Fenris and many other stars of SCW were concerned, that meant a little post-show party and giving themselves into excess. And even though the bars and casinos along the Strip remained open pretty much 24/7, there were limits to even the indulgences of the “White Wolf” Fenris, if you can believe that or not. His routines remained the same, always. If you asked his friends, they would think him OCD where his training was concerned. Ask his brother Aron, who this very day he teamed with for the very first time, and he would say that brother of his was absolutely anal. The hour was well after 2am, and although obviously inebriated, Fenris would get up within four hours, hangover or not, and begin his training regime.
But for now, Aron had his hands full.
The door slowly opened and it could be seen why, as Aron struggled to half-carry Kristjan through the open door frame, the elder of the two having over-indulged. He’d regret it soon enough, but for the next two weeks he’d most likely cut back on his alcohol intake as he prepared to face David Shepherd at Into the Void X in a grudge match that had been building in intensity over the past six plus weeks. Kristjan COULD walk, but it was with slow and awkward steps as he stumbled and Aron had his right arm draped around his neck, supporting his brother’s weight so he didn’t fall and do himself a mischief.
Aron propped Kristjan up along the edge of their snow-white sofa as Kyssa came running along to sniff at her master and receiving a blind ear scratch for her just reward, while the younger sibling took the time to close the door behind them and secure its lock. Only when he turned around did he see that his brother was staring him down through glassy, bloodshot eyes. His eyes narrowed as his body wavered, and Aron couldn’t quite tell whether that was a smile on his face or not. But as he walked past his brother, young Aron couldn’t help but to quip, “You know, red really doesn’t go with the blue of your eyes.”
He placed a hand on the larger man’s shoulder and forcibly sat him down on the sofa, the white Siberian Husky crawling up onto his lap for a much desired rubdown. Aron then made for the kitchen to fetch Kristjan some water to fend off the hangover effects as best he could, but quickly found his brother’s hand clamped tightly around his wrist and he pulled him down onto the sofa along with him.
“What?” Aron exclaimed, once he righted himself from his landing. A moment’s pause followed, as if Kristjan was trying to find the right words without slurring them (much), and he asked, “What do you think you were doing tonight?”
Aron stared at him without comprehension. He had a couple of beers, but that was all. Not the multiple drinks that the other had, one right after the other. Aron side-eyed him and shook his head, “K, what are you…?”
“I had everything under control.” Kristjan wavered, finally resting against the back of the sofa but his eyes never straying from the confrontation, one in which had obviously been on his mind. He just obviously was waiting until the two siblings were not in public.
“Ah…” Aron closed his eyes and nodded. “I was wondering if this was going to come up. Under control… that’s how you see it?” He waited for a brief moment until Kristjan nodded, and then said, “If by ‘under control,’ you mean having your ass handed to you, then yes. I would agree.”
Kristjan sat upright quickly with a sudden frown etched on his face. To say something like that, something that even remotely insinuated that he had not been in complete control was sacrilege. But before he could utter a word of protest, Aron held up a hand to forestall him and quickly amended himself, stating, “K, you did great. But face facts! They took control, and even you can’t fight two men. Especially when they were willing to tag each other and you were not.”
The last bit was added with a strong tone to the words, driving home Aron’s point.
“It was a tag team match, K.” Aron said matter-of-factly. “Key word being ‘team,’ and you didn’t make me feel like I was part of it, not wanting to tag me in like that.”
“I didn’t want…” But before he could finish, Aron interrupted him and said, “I know. You didn’t want me to get hurt. That’s what you always say when you cut me out of these moments. That’s why you ‘fired’ me. But don’t you get it?” He shook his head and poked himself in the sternum with a forefinger. “I wanted this, K! I wanted to be able to say that I got to team with my big brother! And when I DID tag in, was I, or was I not, able to handle myself?”
Kristjan, however, did not answer. He just turned his head aside and away from Aron, which told the younger one all he had to know. When Kristjan was right, he’d let the world know it. When he was wrong, he’d clam up and not say a word to admit so.
“I don’t need you to protect me like some baby bird, K.” Aron said, and Kristjan turned to him with a frown, and what he thought was a stricken, hurt reflection in his eyes.
“I’m not saying I don’t need you, K.” Aron smiled. “You’re my big brother. I’ll ALWAYS need you. And if some guy like Mercer wants to get cute, well then have at it! I’m just saying -- you can relax a little with me, okay?” Still, Kristjan didn’t speak as he turned away from him again to take in the words. Whether or not he’d remember them in the morning was still entirely up for debate.
Aron finally rose from the sofa and walked into the kitchen to retrieve two bottled waters, but when he returned to pass one along, he found his brother sound asleep on the sofa. Aron sighed gently, then set the waters down. He gently laid Kristjan back on the sofa and drew the pearl-white afghan that their aunt had crocheted for them from the back of the sofa and draped it over him as Kyssa watched protectively. Aron then picked up his bottle and with one last glance at his brother, and watching Kyssa curl up at the base, he called it a night and went to bed.
Reykjavik, Iceland -
September 2018The last several days had been turbulent for Kristjan Baltasarsson. The world had discovered a secret that he had held steadfast against prying eyes for years; the fact that he was homosexual. (Don’t you dare use the term ‘queer’ where he was concerned! Accepted by most or not, he hated that word and would swing at any who dared use it in reference to him!) The only person who was privy to the secret had been his beloved Jokull from years past, his lost love. And of course, Kris Ryans, the very one he had been caught with and what had started this domino effect of his own self destruction. And had it not been for his brother Aron and his trainer in Gabriel Stevens, he may very well have went past the point of no return. And while he knew he would be facing an onslaught of public opinion and backlash from not just his and Kris’s public tryst in an elevator, but simply from narrow minded ‘fans’ reacting to the big, bad “White Wolf” being gay.
Such a thing in the world of MMA was unheard of.
But for now, he was here; in his native town of Reykjavik, self recuperating with his family sans Aron who remained in Las Vegas. The previous night, the entire family met him with a heart-to-heart intervention, assuring him that while his sexual preferences mattered to none of them, some of his recent destructive behavior did. But that was last night.
It was still early the next day, and Kristjan’s father Benedikt had managed to corral his son after breakfast and his morning run; none of them unable to get him to break away from any of his training regime. Once finished, the father took the son out of the house and Kristjan soon found himself in the passenger seat of the family car, a gray Toyota Prius, traveling down the road. He figured in his mind that his Mom had sent Benedikt out on some weekend errand and his dad simply wanted the company, when instead they found themselves at…
Reykjavík's city pond, Reykjavíkurtjörn. One of Kristjan’s favorite spots in his native city. In fact, the very location where he had his morning run that very day. This was the precise moment when Kristjan realized that this was not just some errand that they had been sent on; his father had something else in mind. Something that Kristjan was not entirely certain he wanted to partake in, especially given the discussion they had last night. That had involved the entire family, but this? This was Benedikt, his father. The man he had looked up to and idolized for as long as he could remember. Benedikt had parked the Sedan across the road, and father and son found themselves walking silently along the edge of the pond, Benedikt conspicuous by the paper grocery bag he held in his hand.
“Should I be concerned?” Kristjan finally found his voice. “I mean, is there a reason why we’re here?”
“I thought you enjoyed Reykjavíkurtjörn?” Benedikt said, more a statement than a question.
“I do.” Kristjan answered. “But you haven’t brought me here since I was a boy. I would usually just wander down here by myself to feed the swans or to watch the tourists…” He paused, as indeed the pond was flocked by what tourists there were at this early morning hour. He then turned to resume the walk his father was leading him on, when instead he saw Benedikt slowly taking a seat at the edge of the bond, on the stone wall. He watched and a silent pang tore through him as he saw his dad struggle, just a bit. Benedikt had arthritis in his right knee ever since a skiing accident years ago, and it hurt to even think of his father as anything but perfect to his own eyes.
Then he saw what his dad carried in the paper bag, as he removed a thawed out bag of frozen peas, presumably to feed the swans. Kristjan arched a brow as he walked over and took a seat at his side.
“Now I know something is going on.” He said, to which Benedikt answered back, “So something has to be going on for a father to spend some time with his son?”
“Under most circumstances, no.” Kristjan shook his head. “But after what’s been going on and the talk last night? You can hardly blame me for being suspicious.” Kristjan waited, but no answer to the accusation came forth. Instead, Benedikt smiled as he opened the bag and took out a handful of the thawed out veggies and gave them a gentle toss into the water. Kristjan turned from his dad to watch as the swans slowly made their way over to where the offerings originated from and they ducked their long necks into the water to retrieve the bounty. It was a gentle sight of nature that Kristjan never tired of. Indeed, even he wore a smile as a few other tourists did the same, and Benedikt threw a few more morsels into the water for the swans.
“Did mom put you up to this?” Kristjan finally asked, and Benedikt answered, “No, this was entirely me. I just promised your mother I wouldn’t keep you out too long. Since you’re leaving tomorrow and your visit was so short, she wants to spend as much time as possible with you. Your mother just had her say last night. This is my turn.”
Kristjan just nodded, turning his head away to watch the swans in the water, and the light of the morning sun dancing off of the surface. A hard knot started to form in his stomach as he had hoped that last night’s family discussion would be the end of it, but such was not the case apparently. Finally he found his voice and said, “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” He waited for a moment as his dad turned to him finally and he added, “In my being gay? Liking men?”
“No, son…”
“Or the fact that I won’t be giving you grandchildren?”
Benedikt snorted and paused from taking another handful of the peas and withdrew his hand before he turned to his son, “It may have escaped your notice, son, but you are not your mother’s and my only child. What parent doesn’t want to have grandchildren to spoil when they get old? But if that’s not part of your path in life, so be it. Your mother and I spoke last night and we understand.” Benedikt then gave him an impish, fatherly smile and added, “Although your mothers till thinks you might meet some nice fella to make an honest man out of you and give her grandchildren anyway.”
This time, it was Kristjan who snorted and he shook his head, saying with a resigned tone, “No, when I said not, I meant it. I know I am not the father type.”
Benedikt watched him for a brief moment before he turned back to watch the swans and the water, much like his son. For a while, neither spoke a word until he finally asked, “Can I ask you something?” Kristjan didn’t answer verbally, he simply yielded with a silent nod. Benedikt then said, “You and Jokull….?”
And there, Kristjan closed his eyes. What he felt for his dead lover even after all of these years? It was epic. As was the pain he lived under every time his name was brought up, and the blame he shifted on himself for the accident that took his beloved Jokull away from him and his family. Benedikt was aware, and that was why he didn’t push. He had asked, and if his son chose not to answer, that was, of course, his own prerogative.
Kristjan finally opened his eyes and turned his head enough to look to his dad and ask, “Was it that obvious?”
“That you loved each other? Oh yes.” His dad nodded. “That it went beyond friendship to the romantic?” He then shook his head. “No. You boys hid that well enough, even if you didn’t need to.” Another deep regret Kristjan had come to realize; that if his and Jokull’s families had known and accepted it, then all could have and would have been well. If his family had ever discovered that Jokull’s own parents had discovered their little secret? He wasn't sure he wanted to know how that little revelation would have gone over. Benedikt went on, “Your mother and I didn’t know. I mean, after he passed, we suspected, maybe ‘wondered’ would be the better word, given how much pain you were in, but we didn’t say anything. We didn’t want to pry.”
“And now?”
“Now…” Benedikt went on. “Your mother and I just want our boy to be happy. I’m sure your brother and sisters will give us the grandchildren your mother wants so badly. You? You can adopt one of those Himalayan whistle kids, or one of those Yorkshire terriers… whatever it is you men do.”
Father heard a supressed snort, and he turned back to his son and saw Kristjan with eyes closed and his lips clamped shut, shaking hard to not laugh at his father’s creative manner to soothe things over. He finally opened his eyes, his face flushed from the held back laughter, and he shook his head.
“You’re an ass.”
“Yes, well…” Benedikt held the bag out to him. “Like father, like son.” Kristjan reached in and took a handful of the peas and gave them a toss into the water, his father doing likewise...
Las Vegas, Nevada - NowFenris walked calmly into the bedroom of his shared condo at the Turnberry Towers, reaching over to turn on the lights, immediately flooding the room in a soft, golden illumination. But he then turned the small dial beside the light switch, and the result was the overhead track lighting dimmed to where it was just light enough to see throughout. Not that the city lights from the famed Strip did any less through the open patio window. He then walked barefoot over the plush, white carpeting and entered his walk-in closet, a space big enough some might think it an apartment all unto its own. Yet Fenris did not take down any of his wardrobe from where they hung, or remove a bottle from the wall rack gifted to him from Ben Jordan for his own private collection - of which he had many.
No, instead he walked to the very end wall of the closet where a simple table rested, and a single statue of the Norse god Baldur stood. Almost ten inches in height, it was a wondrous piece of art, one of which Fenris treasured as a dedicated Ásatrú practitioner. Behind the statue, on the wall, an oil painting of the very same deity. Both gifts to him from his family. While they did not practice the same faith, they respected and supported his own choice to do so.
“Hvíldu einn, því brátt munt þú rísa.” He said before he exited the closet and slid the door closed once again. He then walked over to the open patio and paused briefly, eyes closed, and luxuriating in the Vegas night. The air was pleasantly cool for the season, and he slowly removed his button up shirt so his bare, upper body could feel the gentle wind across his lightly tanned flesh. He then opened his eyes and his gaze roamed across the city before him.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions running around that narrow mind of yours David, chief among them you're probably wondering what the point was behind all of this. Why did I choose to open the door for everyone out there, you especially, to get a look behind the iron curtain which is my life. Under most circumstances, I don’t let anyone in on my personal life. Or I try not to, but you know how some people are; they think just because you’re in the public eye, then everything about you and those close to you must be as well. People will stalk a celebrity with cameras, violating their personal space and their family. They will perform stakeouts to take pictures of a star without clothes on and sell them to the highest bidder, and if that upsets said star? They just claim the public has a right to know. They will dig through garbage to try and find something, anything, that could be used as leverage or gossip in one of those filthy websites or newsstand tabloids, and justify their every action. I call bullshit! The only business people have a right to know is what I do inside of that ring! Anything else? My business, and mine alone. I have had fans come up to me when I’m eating out with friends and family and play the role of victim when I refuse to interrupt this time alone with pictures and small talk. I even had one asshole tell me that it was my duty since he paid my salary. I told him to fuck off, because the ONLY thing anyone pays me to do is to wrestle, so whatever I do OUTSIDE of the ring? That’s my call, and mine alone! I’m a private person. Always have been. I won’t lie and say I don’t get an ego boost when people ask for an autograph or to take a picture with me but… time and place.”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out that way. I learned that the hard way a few years ago when some nosey bastards decided the world needed to know Fenris, the scary MMA and professional wrestling star, preferred the company of men. That was a door I could never close again, and I’ve never forgiven them for stealing away what should have been MY decision! MY moment! Just thinking about that violation pisses me off, but I have to admit that the end results worked out in my favor. I’m surrounded by people who have been nothing short of supportive.”
“Ever since then, I’ve been extra careful to shield my private life and my family from the wandering eyes of reporters and fans. My family has been here in Las Vegas to visit time and again but I will be damned if I let them fall prey to these sharks who just want a look for no other reason than to be fucking nosey! It’s a risk they still try to take; they ask me something about my family or my personal life? They get told to ‘fuck off’ and then they act all butt hurt entitled little bitches. But this time tonight?… This was special. This was for you, David. There is a method to my so-called madness. If there weren't, even my own family members and those closest to me wouldn't refer to me as cerebral. I did it because I wanted to show the more important differences between David Shepherd and myself. And I am not talking about the differences between us INSIDE of the ring. Those are self evident - or at least, they WILL be.”
“Inside of the ring? David, those are the differences between night and day! While you and your own were down in SCU, wallowing in self pity and being humiliated by a fucking rhino of all things, I was here! Topside on the main roster, reminding everyone why I was a goddamn force of nature! I was winning, having five star matches with the likes of Ben Jordan, while you? You were losing matches left and right to that twink, Carter! Really, how embarrassing for you!”
“No, this time I’m talking about the differences between us where it REALLY matters. Everything you saw? That is the backbone of who and what I am. My family. My friends. I am man enough to admit that I would not be HALF the man that I am today if it weren’t for those closest to me! My Mom and Dad? They have been my heart and soul ever since I was a kid! Sure I did things that upset them, maybe even disappointed them. But I also did things that made them happy and even proud, and never - not ONCE -have they ever turned their backs on me! Even when they found out that I had a thing for men?”
He shook his head with a soft smile.
“They didn’t give a damn. They were always believers that a parents love should be unconditional. I have been very lucky in that regard.”
His eyes gifted sidelong toward the camera.
“Can you say the same? Afraid not. I’ve sat back and watched from afar and I’ve seen the way Gerald treats you. You’re not a son to him. You are little more than Daddy’s Little Soldier, and he treats you well enough -- so long as you act the role of a good son and do as you're told. Defy him? Well I’m sure all hell breaks loose. Part of me can’t blame you, really. I’ve met your dad. I’ve talked with him - or rather, he spoke to me. Can’t deny the man has a way with words that almost charms you and makes you want to do as he wishes. I suspect enough years of that would be enough to turn someone like you into a brainwashed robot, but that fault lies with you for being so damn desperate to want to please and to belong. You fight so hard just to be accepted that you lost all sense of your own self. It’s not just sad. That’s fucking pathetic.”
“The Lord Is My Shepherd, I Shall Not Want.”
“Give me a fucking break!”
Fenris almost looked heavenward and rolled his eyes.
“I have to be honest with you David. I do admit that I admire the fact that you hold onto your faith with as much passion as you do. The one thing that I’ve noticed about so-called Christians is the fact that they are so only one day out of the week, and only for a couple of hours that day. After their church service is over, they go out to restaurants where they mistreat the servers. They go have a glass of wine (or three), and give in to excess. (other examples) These people will look you in the eye and accuse you of being evil and think you are disgusting. They will pick apart everything about your life and in doing so, will tell you about how you are going to burn in the fires of Hell. And when you call them on it and throw back in their faces ‘Judge Not Lest ye Be Judged,’ their response?”
“‘Oh I’m not judging you!’ - Even though that was exactly what they were doing! These people, yourself and that family of yours included, you search your passages and pick apart the Bible to fuel your hatred and bigoted viewpoints. You twist the so-called Word of God to your own ends and completely ignore the same book and its teachings that pick apart your own sins! I just find it funny that you and the rest of the Good Shepherds have made yourselves famous for preaching against the sins of others while very conveniently ignoring your own. Your sneak attacks. Your underhanded tactics during matches. Your harsh words, judging others who don’t believe the same as you.
Look at that priest a few years back that said he would set himself on fire if gay marriage were made legal by the United States Supreme Court. Well it was, and where is that priest now? Did he follow through on his ‘threat?’”
Fenris closed his eyes and shook his head in the negative.
“He was just the perfect example. So many people do the same, trying to dictate how the rest of the world should live according to their own beliefs. Telling the world that gays shouldn’t be allowed to marry because it’s against your religion. That would be like telling me that I can’t eat a pizza because YOU’RE on a diet! Different concept, same point!”
“But not you. David. No. With you, it’s a matter of what you see is what you get. You believe with all your heart everything that your father and mother has taught you about the church and your God. Or that’s just the programming they instilled into you. It’s an admirable parent to teach their child values, but it’s a cruel one that brainwashes the child into thinking like them and not allowing them to develop any traits or beliefs of their own. While you have a mother and a father, I have a mom and a dad. And that might not sound like much, but there is a world of difference in what I have in my corner, in my life, compared to what you have in yours!”
“But that’s okay David, it’s alright. Either way, you hold onto that faith of yours. You believe in the church and your god. The conviction you hold to in your path in life is admirable. It’s just woefully misguided. Like your parents, like most church goers, they don’t even think about the origins of their own teachings!
“The Bible you cling to, and everything in it? Yeah, those stories were passed down for hundreds of years by word of mouth by illiterate souls before they were ever transcribed to the written word! And you DO know what happens when any story gets passed along like that? Details get exaggerated. Facts get embellished. Stories get added on to. That book you hold to so dear? That’s not even the complete version! There are entire passages and texts that were removed for no other reason that it didn’t fit with the way the Church wanted the people to think! The Book of Enoch a perfect example! Biblical ‘facts’ about fallen angels mating with humans? Well the Church can’t have stories like THAT passed around, can they? Then Christians might get it in their heads that angels aren’t a perfect being! And if angels weren’t perfect, what would that say about their Creator?”
“I could go on but talk about religion bores the fuck out of me. I could mention how the Bible doesn’t ACTUALLY say a word condemning homosexuality or gay marriage, despite what religious leaders want you to think. I could go on about how hundreds of years ago, they burnt women at the stake for witchcraft as it was a sin, yet there Solomon was, using a witch to perform necromancy and contact the dead. Oh! Or how Christians look to King David as a shining beacon when he had his own man killed so he could take his wife for his own.”
He shrugged, and stepped away from the banister of the patio and turned back to the open door.
“Look around you, then take a look around me. I have everything a man could want or need, and you? You have nothing. My parents. My siblings. My friends. They all have my back where the people you surround yourself with would just as easily stab you in yours for not believing what they believe.”
"I've heard rumors that you disapprove of my practice of Ásatrú. Of how I look to Odin and the fallen Baldur for guidance in my life. Well we can't all be like you, David. Placing our faith in the salvations of our soul in a 2000 year old dead carpenter. Face facts, David! My gods existed for literally thousands of years before yours was ever even a blip note in history! In fact, your religion, your god, wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for a single Roman emperor converting. One man."
"The only thing you should be concerned with is praying to your God to save not your soul, but your ass because all this? It’s on you! You started this shit between us, David! Your big mouth, and that little bitch ass attack six weeks ago! I’ve waited long enough. In a matter of days, it’ll all be over. So don't preach to me. Do not bestow upon me the virtues of your Bible, your faith. I'm almost thirty. I've outgrown fairy tales.”
Fenris stepped inside and slammed the patio door behind him with a hard finale.
