Shared Dreams Fulfilled: His & Hers

[Cyrus Daniels]

The hectic travel schedule, flying from Japan to Australia and back again for the rest of this tour, had left the newlyweds jet lagged. They used the excuse to spend the day asleep, cuddled in bed together in a Tokyo bridal suite. Vivienne was still glowing with the joy of actually being married. She’d wasted no time filing the paperwork to legally change her status and take her husband’s surname. She was no longer weighed down by the family disappointment of being a Rodgers, she was now a Daniels. The relief of that alone had her practically bouncing off the walls with sheer unadulterated joy.

She woke her Prince Charming up with a kiss, “Morning, husband,” Vivienne smiled as Cyrus’ eyes fluttered gently open, brought back to his senses by the sweetness of her lips. He smiled back at her. The love with which he looked upon her each morning was a sight and a feeling she’d never tire of, she was certain of that.“I’ve been thinking. I know we have to treat this like a working vacation, at least until we can have a proper honeymoon, so I was looking up fun things to do as a couple here in Tokyo. And I really want to go to Disneyland. I’ve never been to any Disneyland before. Please? I know it’s childish and stupid and…”

Cyrus immediately pressed a forefinger firmly against Vivienne’s lips, silencing her.

“You ain’t childish or stupid,” Cyrus said softly. “We’ve talked about this before, that’s your father’s voice in your head, his words, not yours. Please stop talkin’ about my beautiful and brilliant new wife like that, right?”

Vivienne nodded slowly, as Cyrus withdrew his finger.

“Sorry,” Vivienne said softly.

“I love you,” Cyrus reminded her. He ran a gentle hand through Vivienne’s hair as he held her gaze. “I’ve never been either. We just weren’t that kinda family.”

“I love you too, so much. We can make better memories for our own family than we had growing up.” Vivienne smiled, her excitement began to bubble up inside her. “And we can take the boys, or leave them with Mai for another day and it can be just us today. Please?” Vivienne asked, politely. “I saw on TikTok there’s a Beauty and the Beast ride with a Castle Tour and I want to go so bad,” Vivienne’s tone was one of childlike enthusiasm and her eyes sparkled with the simple magic of a neglected childhood dream.

“We are here in Japan for a while yet, Princess, so we could probably do both, on different days if that’s what ya would like. Whatever my beloved wife wants, my beloved wife gets.”

Vivienne visibly shivered at the term ‘wife’, “Today for us, then and another day with the boys. I’m so excited. Thank you, Daddy! I’ll get dressed!” Vivienne skipped over to the closet, “I’m nervous about our next match together, so I figure any distraction is a good distraction.”

“If a distraction is what ya want, Kitten,” Cyrus hopped off the bed and quickly to his feet. He embraced Vivienne from behind as she stood in front of the closet. He nuzzled into her shoulder. “I’m sure I can think of a few fun ones.”

Vivienne leaned into his warm bear hug, “Okay, I confess. I want to show you off to the world too. Let them see that I chose you, no matter what they say or think about us. You’re my choice, my only choice.” She turned slightly, got on her tiptoes until their lips met for a kiss.

“Likewise, Kitten,” Cyrus whispered. “Likewise.”

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Tokyo Disneyland. Vivienne and Cyrus Daniels stood in the Fairytale Hall, at Cinderella’s Castle. The walls were adorned with hand-drawn stills from the classic movie, one of Vivienne’s absolute favourites. Vivienne wrapped her arms securely around Cyrus, her very own Prince.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Odyssey will be an unforgettable night, I promise. Unforgettable, because for the first time ever, the four time World Champion, Dean Harper teams up with one of my lovely Murder Sisters, April Madrox to take on not just anyone, but the true power couple, not just in this tournament but in the entire Imperial Wrestling Federation. No, not Savage Kingdom, but us, the brand new Mr and Mrs Daniels,” Vivienne preens. “We’re currently tied for the top spot of this year’s tournament. A tournament that for the first time in its illustrious history has a His & Hers tag-team round of matches.” Vivienne smiled, confidently. “A round of matches we’ve been comfortably dominating, so far by the way. With our recent wedding, it feels like destiny, almost, doesn’t it?”

“But I know April, and I know Dean, we’re almost as familiar as siblings. Our social circles have more than a little overlap, especially since I came back to IWF as the truest version of myself that I have ever been, as part of The Murder. So I know that this week, Dean and April will be looking to play spoiler and stop my beloved husband and I from securing the best possible advantage going into the next round of tournament matches.” Vivienne said. “I won’t lie to you, of every other team in this tournament, Dean and April probably have the single best shot of stalling our momentum. They wouldn’t be doing as well as us if they weren’t just as big a threat. It’s kind of thrilling to be challenged like that. A battle of the best of the best, one might say. But honestly, as evenly matched as the four of us seem on paper, I like Cyrus and I’s chances more.”

“You see, it’s obvious to anyone who’s really paying attention, that April and Dean are little more than a temporary marriage of convenience, tentatively held together by the desperate whims of April’s sister, Brooklyn. Brooklyn needs Dean more than Dean needs Brooklyn. I’m sure Brooklyn would love to set April up for the big chance at vicarious redemption against her almost eternal nemesis, Jennie Fenix. Brooklyn hasn’t been in the right headspace to make that challenge herself since the news of no real improvement in her beloved Rowan’s condition, and whilst as her friend I totally get that. I sympathize, I really do, but as a competitor in this tournament, I cannot ignore the promise I made to Rowan and the rest of my Murder Sisters. I promised to make the IWF Women’s Division about more than just the top two names. I promised to help elevate other names into the spotlight, and to do so without compromise or hesitation. I promised to do whatever it took to rejuvenate the division and free it from the stagnation of just a couple of dependable names fighting at the top for the richest prize in our sport, whilst the rest of us are little more than minor supporting roles,” Vivienne said.

“It’s not an easy burden to bear, but it’s one I must. I must accept the responsibility of my vow to not only The Murder but also to my man. To each of them, I have promised to be the best partner I can be, and an unfortunate necessity of that oath I have taken is the need to step up and challenge myself to be better than I’ve ever been before. Better than the very best, better even than those I call my friends or my sister. Unlike the pledges of the Pack, The Murder was founded on the promise that when it was deemed absolutely necessary, we wouldn’t shy away from testing each other,” Vivienne paused for a deep breath. “I love you, April, but I love Cyrus more. I care about you, April, but for the first time in my life, I realize that there’s nothing wrong with caring about myself more. If I don’t look out for my own nobody else will.”

“It’s not personal, April, just an unfortunate reality of this business that we’ve been pitted against each other this week. We both knew it would happen eventually as soon as the brackets were announced. It was never a question of if, but when. And now here we are. You’re my next obstacle on my path to reminding everyone just who the hell I am. I’m a former Women’s World Champion, I’m one of the most dominant Openweight Champions this company has ever seen and I’m an IWF Hall Of Famer. As much as I sometimes wish I wasn’t, and as much as I’ve crumbled under the weight of legacy-based expectations before, the fact remains that wrestling is in my blood. As much as I resent how I came to be, I’m still third generation, and I only held myself back from leaning too heavily on that fact because I could never comfortably reconcile that the more I got my name out there, the more my abusers got recognition and notoriety. But last week was my last week as a Rodgers, meaning that particular anxiety is behind me and can burn in Hell with the rest of my father and grandfather’s wishes for me,” Vivienne said.

“I’m finally free to live my life on my own terms. A liberty I’ve never had before, and I know that’s a luxury you don’t get to enjoy either, April, permanently shackled to Brooklyn’s expectations as you are. You’re constantly in the shadow of her guiding light, simply because you choose to be. It’s sad really, because I see so much raw potential in you, April. I wish you could see what I see. I wish you could believe in yourself as much as I believe in you, I really do. Like people told me for years, you deserve better for yourself than to be an extension of somebody else’s dreams and ambitions. You deserve your own flowers, not just to carry Brooklyn’s. Maybe one day you’ll finally become so much better than you are right now. Maybe one day you’ll build your own legend in this company and not just be content with being related to one. Maybe one day you’ll even have your own titles, accolades and annual achievements and awards to speak of rather than just being related to somebody who does. I hope it happens for you, April. I really hope it does, one day. But just because I believe you deserve the world April, that doesn’t mean I believe you deserve it at my expense,” Vivienne clarified. “Just because I want your day to come soon doesn’t mean I’m ready to sacrifice my own, this Tuesday.”

“You’ve waited this long, April, so you can wait a little longer, can’t you? You’ve found comfort in the shadow of one sister already, so I know you’ll have no trouble finding solace in mine, because who am I if I’m not your sister too?” Vivienne asked.

“And as your sister, I’ve got to tell you girl, Dean is a snake. Trust me, don’t trust him. As far as he’s carried you these last few weeks, he’s still a scorpion on the back of the frog Brooklyn commands to jump. And that means whatever little hope and understanding you think you have with Dean, it just doesn’t compare to the sacred trust between man and wife, sorry,” Vivienne smiled. “My tag partner isn’t just for this tournament, it’s for life. Cyrus and I share a love and a trust that is the envy of many, most especially Dean Harper. He only wishes he knew for certain that Warren loves him as much as I know Cyrus and I love each other. There are no doubts, there is no guesswork and there is no stepping on eggshells for Cyrus and I. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life than I am about our great love. We get each other. We love each other with our whole being. We recently got married.”

Vivienne shows off her wedding ring with pride. “Nothing compares to that level of trust and dependability, two virtues I will never associate with Dean, even if I am thankful to him for his part in protecting me from Xavier Cross’ darker impulses, even if it was only for a few hours five years ago.”

“The KitchenAid Mixer was a nice wedding present, Dean, and as thankful as I am for your part in finally getting my obsessive ex-fiancé to leave me alone, I am not nearly as willing as Xavier was to roll over,” Vivienne said with her head held high. “And even if April doesn’t heed my warning about your true nature as a scorpion on her back, being carried across the river only to inevitably drown as all good people do in your presence, I have absolutely no doubt that my better half can and will make you pay for all your many, many, many sins. It’s about time somebody did, after all.” Vivienne leaned comfortably against Cyrus, her left hand was at rest on his massive chest, just over his heart. The sapphire in her wedding ring seemed to pulse with a beautiful sparkle.

Cyrus held Vivienne close, his arm wrapped tight around her waist, as he took control again. “Jesus Christ, this week I’m facin’ four time World Champ, Dean fuckin’ Harper!” Cyrus laughed. “Oh, I’m so scared. Wait! Where’s my autograph book?” His tone was one of clear mockery and derision, “Tell me mate, is that the kinda reaction you’ve grown accustomed ta ‘round here? Is that really the reason why some consider ya not only The Devil’s Favourite Weapon but also God’s Favorite Forsaken Son?”

“Y’see Deano, blokes like you are a big part of why I personally have no time for so-called Gods or their wayward sons. Blokes so hamstrung and blinded by their need ta worship somethin’, anythin’ that they’ll jump headfirst inta any relationship that offers them what they crave more than anythin’ else in their miserable little existence, praise and validation,” Cyrus shook his head, “It’s absolutely pathetic, really, how you’ve never been able ta take control of your own damned life.”

“You’ve always needed someone else ta depend on. Someone else ta define your morality, and someone else ta tell you right from wrong. First it was your bitch of a Grandma, then it was your bitch of a satanic matriarch. After that, it was your beloved Max, then it was your deadbeat clown of a dad, and most recently it’s been your terminally confused husband. And even with all those guiding figures, all those surrogate Mommies and Daddies in your life, ya still can’t do anythin’ right, by any of their standards, can ya?”

“It really must be a kick in your soft an’ curlies ta know ya have so many people in your life ta please and yet no matter what ya do, no matter how hard ya try you’ll never be worthy of any of them or more specifically the one thing ya so desperately crave, their love and adoration. No matter how many times ya make yaself one of the top blokes ‘round here Verona can depend on ta carry his company on your back when he needs, and no matter how professionally worthy ya make yourself in the eyes of the thousands who buy your merch every month, you’ll always be absolutely bloody worthless ta the precious few ya actually care about, personally.”

“Everyone’s favourite psycho? Afraid not, Deano. Psychos notoriously ain’t empathetic at all, but you, my sadistic little fa…” Vivienne narrowed her eyes at her husband, causing him to reconsider his next word quickly. “…twink are nothin’ but hopelessly empathetic.” Vivienne patted him on the chest and smiled, Cyrus returned it before continuing. “Your boundless empathy is an even bigger handicap against a bastard like me than your comparative size an’ power deficiency.”

“Not through any choice of my own, but I’ve dined with actual real life psychos, back when I was banged up in the Big House. The kinda unhinged blokes who woulda loved ta make someone like you their shower time bitch, an’ not in the playful way you’d most likely enjoy, but more in the violent violation way. More Uriel Black than Warren Harper, shall we say?” Cyrus chuckled. “Too soon? I really don’t give a fuck.”

“Point is, I know a few real psychos. Blokes who make your skin crawl just by gawkin’ at ya a certain way, an’ the fact remains that no matter how ya paint your face or your fingernails an’ no matter how many scars ya ink over, you will never evoke that kinda fear an’ apprehension in me. You’re a blonde pretty boy with an overblown reputation simply ‘cause ya happened ta be in the ring when Spike Kane’s heart gave up the ghost on him,” Cyrus smirked. “There’s so much more ta makin’ blokes like me fear someone like ya than lickin’ a skull once, Deano.”

“I’ve heard the stories. I know how ya were beaten an’ tortured for most of your life, and how you were conditioned ta not only takin’ beatin’s but also ta withstand pain ta an almost inhuman level. An’ I really would be more impressed with all that BS if I didn’t already know as well as you do yourself that you’re no longer the bloke ya once were, even as recently as a few years ago.”

“If ya were, Warren wouldn’t have been able ta fuck up your knee an’ humble ya in front of thousands as easily as he did at Immortals. A bum knee, a tormented heart. What an absolute bloody tragedy it is then that the bloke I will beat the shit outta this week just ain’t the real Dean Harper. Just a hollow burned out shell of somebody who needs ta be put outta his misery almost as desperately as he needs his husband’s attention,” Cyrus grinned. “Still, beggars can’t be choosers, Harper an’ I promise ya boy, you’ll be beggin’ me ta stop poundin’ ya ‘cause that’s just what ya do even better than ya wrestle, ain’t it?”