Xander Valentine & Selena Frost vs. The European Fiery Nation

[SnowQueenSCW]

The Royal Letter

SCW, Glimmers, Xander, and oh yes... European Fiery Nation...

Do you believe?

Oh sorry, you didn’t hear me? No—of course you didn’t. You’re too busy shouting. Too busy swinging.
Too busy bleeding. Too busy congratulating yourselves for being loud enough that no one notices how LITTLE you actually say.

Dakon. Ludvig. Normally, yes, I would go on a bit of a tirade, pointing out the latest hypocrisies of management – such as handing The Vision a title shot against the Glimmers out of nowhere. I’m sorry, when did THEY win a number one contender match like I’m being forced to?

But instead, you know what? I’m just going to jump right to the chase here because you barked my name like dogs fighting over a bone. “Moaning Minnie.” “Boring.” “Weak.” “Pussy.”

You repeated it so often I almost believed you were trying to convince yourselves of your little remarks. That’s what insecure men do. Sorry, that’s what insecure, WEAK men do. They repeat a lie until it sounds like truth.

Let me be very clear about something before we go any further. I am not offended. I’ve heard this crap from you two for years. Konrad spewed the same thing. All it has ever been is some violent thugs overcompensating that this ‘weak’, ‘nonviolent’ woman is so much better than the entire EFN. Or did you miss the part where, unlike both of you, I AM a former world tag-team champion. Unlike you, I CAN win matches. So no, I’m not mad at some little boys whining and crying the same lines about me.

I am amused.

Because for two men who “don’t give a fuck.” about losing or about me, you devoted an impressive amount of breath to talking about me. About my streak. About my approach. About how I wrestle. About how I think. How I look.

That tells me everything. And the most telling thing about you two?

You mistake silence for fear.
You mistake restraint for weakness.
You mistake control for boredom.

That’s because you don’t understand control. You don’t comprehend the notion of restraint. You all live in violence because without it, you simply disappear. You’re not good enough to be known for your wrestling which is way Kemal is leading when you two have been here longer. You’re just goons. Thugs. You can’t exist with your violence.

I can.

You say my undefeated streak doesn’t matter. That nobody cares. That it’s irrelevant. Funny how they couldn’t stop talking about it when it ended. Funny how Glory Braddock was rewarded for hers. And funny how every insult you hurled circled back to it.

I mean, If it truly meant nothing, you wouldn’t need to tear it down, would you?

Because consistency terrifies men who rely on chaos. Because discipline exposes people who can’t sustain it. Because when someone keeps winning without screaming about it, it reminds you of everything you are not.

You lose—and you laugh it off.
You fail—and you call it a message.
You fall short—and you tell yourselves it doesn’t matter.

That’s not philosophy. That’s cowardice with better branding. You don’t reject wins and losses because you’re enlightened. You reject them because you can’t control them. Because you can’t do better. You can’t be better. You can’t maintain the very initials of Supreme Championship Wrestling. So instead, you pretend they’re beneath you. And then you accuse me of whining when my standard is being suppressed. When someone that CAN maintain and do better is held back.

That’s the difference between us, boys. I speak because I expect standards. You shout because you don’t meet them. You mock me for questioning systems, for pointing out hypocrisy, for refusing to quietly accept whatever scraps are thrown my way.

Of course you hate that. Systems benefit people who understand them, while chaos benefits people who can’t compete any other way.

You say I want everything to go my way. Don’t be upset, alot of people think that’s what I want. “Selena wants to rule the world!”, “Selena wants to be world champion FOREVER!”

No. I want reality to match effort. And that alone makes me dangerous to people like you.

Because if effort matters—if momentum matters—if winning matters—then you have to look at yourselves honestly. Which is a problem because all of you in EFN despise honesty. You hide behind violence because it lets you avoid reflection.

But since you won’t rise to my level, let me talk down to yours. Let’s talk about violence.

You talk about it like it’s sacred. Like it’s proof of authenticity. Like swinging a weapon makes you warriors. It doesn’t. It makes you predictable. Violence is your identity because you have nothing underneath it. You think clean wrestling is boring because you’ve never mastered it. You think rules are cages because you’ve never learned how to weaponize precision. You say I’d freeze if weapons came into play.

Did I freeze when I was put into chamber matches time and time again? Did I freeze when I went to war with Blake Mason? Did I freeze when Regan Street brought a cat-o-ninetails of barbed wire? When Xander Valentine demanded an unsanctioned match, followed by a Last Person Standing Match?

No, I didn’t. I didn’t freeze. I adapted. Like I always have. Like I always will. You two only know how to escalate. I know how to end things. I don’t reach for brutality because I’m emotional. I don’t lash out because I’m desperate. I don’t need to scream to feel powerful.

I AM powerful. And cold power doesn’t roar. It waits... like a sleeping dragon...

You call me boring because I don’t bleed for your entertainment. Because I don’t throw tantrums. Because I don’t need to prove how “real” I am. You mistake spectacle for substance and then you wonder why people outgrow you.

But you two don’t want to face me? Not really that shocking. People who aren’t threatened don’t need to convince themselves someone is irrelevant. People who aren’t afraid don’t spend this much time explaining why someone doesn’t matter, do they?

You don’t avoid me because I’m boring.
You avoid me because I’m efficient.

Because I expose mistakes.
Because I don’t give you chaos to hide in.
Because I don’t get dragged down to your level.

But please, respect Xander Valentine. By all means. Maybe he won’t bother showing up and I can beat you two again like I did last time, only this time it will be with me pinning one of you while the other lies unconscious outside the ring.

Pfft, I’ll “hold Xander back”. I spent most of my career holding Xander down when I pin him or knock him out. But could you two be more obvious? You’re just projecting because you are held back by anyone who demands more than noise from SCW wrestlers.

You say we aren’t a real team? You’re right.

We’re not bound by tantrums.
We’re not bonded by excuses.
We’re not united by shared failures dressed up as philosophy.

But we both want the same thing. The Glimmers... and you two? Well... you’re in the way. Both of our way. And that terrifies you! Because you don’t understand how two people can stand side by side without feeding off chaos. You can’t comprehend how this could be the very storm that breaks your nation.

You claim the tag titles are the only thing you care about. And yet—every sentence you speak is an explanation for why you haven’t reached them. And here’s the truth you keep dancing around:

You need me to snap. You need me to scream. You need me to bleed. You need me to abandon who I am. You need me to turn on Xander and leave him high and dry for you two to get that easy win, because that is the ONLY way you could be either one of us, Xander or myself.

More than that, you need me to break because if I beat you as I am—cold, composed, deliberate—it shatters everything you believe about yourselves.

You’ve already promised to try and “force” me. That tells me you know you can’t out-think me. So you’ll try to drag me down.

Good luck. Ice doesn’t crack when you hit it. It breaks what strikes it.

You think this ends with you standing tall, covered in blood, shouting about messages and violence and legacy.

No... What actually happens is quieter. You make mistakes. You overreach. And you swing too hard.

And when the moment comes—when chaos stops protecting you—you’ll realize too late that you never learned how to survive without it.

And when this is over, you won’t be shouting. You’ll be silent. And you’ll finally understand the difference between noise…

…and inevitability. Whether you want to believe it... or not.

Sincerely,
Selena Michelle Frost
The Snow Queen