The following takes place before the events of Ty West's promo.
In more ways than one.
Las Vegas, Nevada
The evening had been a success, perhaps surprisingly so. At least for everyone other than the man who went by the in-ring moniker of Fenris aka the White Wolf. But for the man known as Kristjan Baltasarsson, the man outside of the ring, it was an evening like any other. One where he and his brother had been cordially invited to the home of his boyfriend Ty West and Lora West, Ty's aunt and a woman who had somehow managed to find her way past Kristjan's emotional defenses and into his heart. Not an easy accomplishment to manage by any means, but that was Lora West for you. Then, there was the other member of Ty's family; the reason behind the get together and perhaps the reason why many had showcased such surprise where Kristjan was concerned.
Ty had recently discovered family he had never known he had before, one being a lovely young preteen girl by the name of Ethan Caron. Yes, you read that right. A lovely young preteen girl, and her name was Ethan. Ethan was transgender, and Ty had worried needlessly about how his young niece would be accepted into the family that had grown around him. Given the growing acceptance among the LGBT community in this day, some feel that being gay, or being transgender, was more of a "fad" than it was a lifestyle. They believe it to be a choice, a decision that can be turned on and off like with a switch, but nothing could be further from the truth. The last people who should be telling gays what their lifestyle is all about is non-gays. And the last people who should lecture whether or not transgenders are what they say they are, are those who have not walked in their shoes and do not understand what is going on behind the proverbial closed doors.
But most especially, Ty was concerned greatly on how Kristjan would react to Ethan. Kristjan was rude, temperamental, and to be quite honest, not the nicest person on the planet. But he had surprised them all. I won't go into specifics in the how's or the why's. If you haven't seen Ty's promo yet, that will be enough to light a fire under you and get you moving.
For now, the sun had dipped down below the famed Las Vegas skyline over an hour ago, replaced by the night sky with the moon shining brightly where the stars could not be seen due to the Vegas lights shining brightly for miles. Outside of the condominium that Ty and Lora West called home, Kristjan and Aron had excused themselves and called it a night. The plan had originally been to send Aron home to their own condo in the Turnberry Towers near the Strip while Kristjan stayed the night, but at the last minute the plans changed for the time being. It was, after all, Ethan's first night staying with her uncle and "great aunt," and Lora had somehow convinced her nephew and Kristjan that maybe it would be better that Ethan not overhear those two and become traumatized her first night.
So a very disgruntled Kristjan, destined for an ice cold shower, headed for where he had parked his white Mazda MX, with Aron as always, at his side. It was true that some older brothers balked at having their younger siblings perpetually at their side, but not so for Kristjan. He wouldn't have had it any other way. Especially at the start of his foray into the worlds of professional wrestling and Mixed Martial Arts, Aron was something akin to a security blanket for Kristjan. Family. A friendly place in a strange world if you might. And despite all hostilities and roughhouse play, Kristjan loved Aron deeply. Even if he did not express that sentiment in words.
Kristjan tossed the keys to Aron, a rare thing indeed, and the alpha brother moved around his car to open up the passenger side and have a seat. He had a few beers tonight, hand delivered to him by a dutiful Ethan, and thus was in no fit state to drive. He was dangerous enough on the roads while sober! Aron shook his head, knowing to relent even a modicum of control was a feat for his strong willed older brother, and he then climbed into the driver's side.
Aron turned the key in the ignition, and then turned the top down on the convertible so they could let the warm air run across them as they took a brisk drive down the Strip before heading home. The request went unsaid, but Aron knew that it was another reason why the keys had been handed to him. Sometimes Kristjan just enjoyed a drive down the Vegas Strip at night, to watch as the throng of people milled about on the street, walking in and out of the hotels and attractions that lined every way the eye roamed. Gazing up at the towering monolith hotels and watching as the lights mesmerized the senses. The problem was that as they drove, the wind blowing across their faces made driver and passenger alike feel tired, and when you've been drinking, that feeling would only increase. So the solution was clear;
Aron would drive while Kristjan leaned back and relaxed, and by the time they got home, they would both rest easy.
Aron backed the car out of the parking spot when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned a critical stare to his brother and said, "Seat belt."
"Oh for fuck's sake..." But Kristjan complied, and secured himself in. His outburst was more directed at his own expense than toward his brother. It was Kristjan who taught Aron how to drive, although the younger of the two was much more safe and stable behind the wheel. It was also Kristjan who had practically beat it into his brother to wear a seat belt. And now their roles had just been reversed. It was just one of the many little ways that the two showed their love for one another without Kristjan having to utter that dreaded four-letter word that started with "L." It was, in fact, the first lesson Kristjan had taught Aron for his own safety.
Almost.
"I love my brother. I do. I know it goes without saying, but truth is, we really don't come out and say it. At least, not to each other. Is it a man thing? I don't know, maybe? I see sisters who will tell each other freely that they love them and without hesitation or reservations. But brothers? Maybe it happens and I just don't know it, but it's not something that we do really between ourselves. When the one can't or won't say those words, we know that it's the little things that we do every day that shows how we feel. When one of us has too much to drink and is retching over the toilet, chances are the other is seated on the edge of the tub, ready with a hot wash rag and a drink of fresh water to rinse out that foul taste from our mouth. If one of is going through something and needs to talk, the other never refuses to sit there and listen. He doesn't always offer advice, because sometimes the other just wants to scream or tear at his hair and vent. Listening can be one of the best things you can do to show you care."
"As kids, the words 'I love you' flowed a little more freely, but even at that young age, actions seemed to speak louder than words, and in a household where our parents both worked full-time to support five kids (including two deadbeat daughters), sometimes you had to step out of your comfort zone where it mattered and lend a hand to the household."
Reykjavík, Iceland -
Somewhere close to twenty years ago
It was early morning in the Baltasarsson household. Benedikt and Eva, the heads of the household, had already left for work, which left the eldest of their children to fix their siblings' breakfast and get them ready for school. Ordinarily this would mean Viktoria or even Elin would be in charge, but those two were more interested in fixing their hair and discussing clothes and boys than to get their younger siblings ready for school or even feed them a good breakfast to start their day. The two eldest were in a different room entirely while the two youngest, Aron and Freyja, sat at the kitchen table while Kristjan, who was only a few years older than they, took it upon himself to get them breakfast.
Maybe not the healthiest that their mother might have wanted, but sometimes beggars simply could not be choosers as the eleven year old Kristjan set bowls filled with corn flakes and a plate of burned toast in front of Aron and Freyja, then sat down with his own bowl of cold cereal. It was funny how only when the young ones had food in front of them and started to dig in, that then and only then did Viktoria and Elin wander into the kitchen, and Elin had the audacity to ask, "Where's ours?"
"Get it yourself!" Kristjan said back as he shoveled a seemingly impossible amount of cereal into his mouth, answering, "I'm not your maid!"
"You made them breakfast!" Viktoria replied hotly, pointing at Aron and Freyja who were all but ignoring their sisters' mutual tantrums, altogether too used to such displays although they would always be annoying.
"Which is what you were supposed to do if you and Elin weren't ignoring us and screwing around instead of not doing what Mom said to!" Kristjan replied hotly, disliking when his older sisters were put in charge but never took that responsibility seriously.
"Fine!" Viktoria said with a trace of thinly veiled venom in her voice as she reached over and grabbed Aron's bowl of cereal in her hands, taking it for her own.
"Hey!!" Aron cried as Kristjan jumped to his feet and stood up to his older sister as she gave him a smug grin, taking spoon in hand. Kristjan seethed, balling his hands into fists as he said, "Give it back!"
Or what?" Viktoria replied with little fear as she took a mouthful of cereal -- right before Kristjan slapped the bottom of the bowl, sending the cereal and milk splashing all over his sister's face and blouse! Aron and Freyja clapped hands over their mouths to smother their laughs, and Elin looked mortified!
"You little brat!" Viktoria screamed in dismay. "It took me an hour to pick this top!" And she stormed away with her little lapdog Elin trailing after her.
"And that was the one you picked!?" Kristjan called after her with one final jab, before he turned around and slid his own bowl of cereal over to Aron and started to clean up the mess.
Reykjavík, Iceland -
Two years later...
"What. Happened!?" Then demand was adamant from his older brother as the twelve year old Aron sat on the edge of his bed in the bedroom he shared with Kristjan. Aron was sporting a bruised cheekbone and the beginnings of what would be a beauty of a shiner under his left eye and just above the cheekbone. His eyes watered from the pain and embarrassment. he tried so hard not to cry in front of Kristjan who he respected on a level that you had to be someone's little brother in order to understand. But try as he might, he could not escape the random stream of a salty tear trickling down his cheek.
Aron was a pacifist for the most part. Unlike his temperamental older brother, he generally believed that there was always a means to solve a problem without resorting to violence. He was kind and tender hearted, which made his popular with the girls in his class, and hated by the bullies. Even bullies who were not in his grade, but above by one or two years.
"I don't know." Little Aron explained in a pitiful choked voice, you know the one. "He just jumped on top of me on the playground and kept hitting me!"
Kristjan held a cold cloth with ice wrapped inside of it to Aron's eye, but he asked, "Does Mom and Dad know this little shit's been threatening you?" Aron shook his head, which was no surprise. Aron generally wasn't a tattle tale. Even when schoolyard violence came into play. Kristjan then asked, "Do the teachers know?"
And to this, Aron nodded.
"And they haven't done anything!?" Kristjan asked hotly, and Aron could just shake his head in the negative as his answer. Kristjan stared at him for a seemingly endless amount of time before he asked, "Do you know where he hangs out?"
To which Aron looked up and wiped his eyes....
An hour later, on the schoolyard playground that was open to students to visit outside of school hours, the aforementioned bully is seen standing with two buddies of his. talking and laughing when his pals look up and their skin turns a sickly green when they see a very protective and pissed off Kristjan storming over toward them....
The next day, Kristjan was seated outside of the school principal's office, while his mother Eva, having had to take a day off of work to have this meeting, sat on the other side of the closed door in a private conference. But this 'meeting' was not going altogether according to how the principal had thought it would...
"Missus Sigurðursdóttir, with all due respect, your son beat up a boy younger than him on school grounds!"
"No! What my son did was defend his little brother from a bully who is only one year younger than he is! A bully who just yesterday beat up my youngest son, three years younger than him! A bully who has been threatening to do so for weeks, and as I understand it, you school officials have known about this for some time!"
"We have heard rumors...."
"But rather than take action and protect a student from violence like you're supposed to, you instead sat back and let it play itself out!? You waited until this little brat beat my son!?"
"Missus Sigurðursdóttir! That is not why we are here right now! We are here to talk about your eldest son's punishment!"
"Fine! Yes. He should be punished for fighting on school grounds, although from what I'm told, for it to be a real fight then that other boy should have gotten in at least one shot..."
"Missus Sigurðursdóttir..."
"But you damned sure better be prepared to punish that other boy for what he did to Aron!! The exact same punishment you obviously already chose for Kristjan! Otherwise I swear my husband and I will see you, the school board and that boy's entire family in court for not only ignoring the threats and attack on Aron, but ignoring them!"
"... Please, you have to understand. That boy's mother is complaining..."
"Good! Let her come to me and complain. I'm not above a little fight when it comes to defending my children!"
Outside of the office, having clearly overheard, Kristjan could just smile....
"Aron has always been there for me. I don't think even he realizes the number of ways he's had my back without even realizing it. As kids when I fought with my older sisters and our dad would usually take their side, Aron was the first to stick up for me and try to get our dad to realize his precious daughters were the ones at fault, not me. These times defending me were some of the only times I could remember our parents arguing, because Aron made our Mom realize her two oldest daughters could be a couple of manipulative cows. But this isn't about my sisters, not even Freyja who I adore."
"This is about brothers. Ever since I started fighting professionally, the only constant I've had in my life has been Aron. The man has never given up on me, no matter how much of a raging asshole I would become. He never flinched when I would lose my cool and rant and rave, because he was used to it. But also because he knew damn well that I would never -- ever -- put a hand to him. The one time when I threw him out of our home last year for telling a personal secret to Ty West? I've not forgiven myself to this day. It might slip my mind, but now and then I will remember the look on his face when I slammed the door in it."
"But like family, like brothers, we got past it. We didn't even try. After my match with Jake Raab, it just happened. He was there to support me, even if I acted like I didn't want or need it."
"When I was outed by that stupid elevator incident with Kris Ryans, and was drinking myself into a stupor? It was Aron who stood by me. He was the one who fought to get through to me that my sex life was nobody's business and gay or straight, I still had him. My family. Who I slept with meant nothing when compared to that kind of love and loyalty."
"There were times when I would go out alone with friends and I was told I had to take my brother with me, or he just followed me on his own. Did I get annoyed? Sure. But I still brought him. Having someone look at you the way Aron does me, you don't just shrug off that kind of thing because once you do, you'll live the rest of your life regretting it and trying to get it back."
"Aron and I are equals. We each bring something to the plate when we're together in SCW. He can't fight like I can but I could never handle the business side of things like he does. I don't understand how two brothers can fight like maniacs. I don't get how one brother could attack his own to the point he puts him on the shelf with a fucking serious injury! When siblings fight, especially in sports like wrestling or MMA, it's usually because one is jealous of the others accomplishments. You might try to shift that and blame them for something else, something completely off the wall like abandonment or betrayal, even when its clearly not the case."
"Think that gives you all the reason to fight with your own flesh and blood? Think it opens a door for you to take out all of your frustrations in life on someone that doesn't deserve it and suffer no consequences? Trust me when I say that's not the case."
"I am the fucking consequence!"
