After her encounter with Randy, Iseult had slinked back to her hotel room and gorged herself on ice cream. She didn't want to admit that the predicament that she found herself in sucked.

She had never been the girl who got the guy in the end. Her romantic life consisted of a series of dots and hyphens, rather than continuous lines. She had never had a serious, long-term relationship - preferring to address her needs with like-minded men on a short-term basis. The thought of opening herself up to another person, letting down her defences, and allowing them to see every part of her, had never been an appealing one. It actually sounded downright exhausting.

Her colourful past ensured that she had experienced enough drama to last her a lifetime. She wasn't enough of a masochist to pro-actively pursue self-destruction in the form of inevitable heartbreak.

Flopping back on to her pillow with a deep sigh, her eyes followed the lines of the ceiling, trying to push Randy out of her mind.

If it weren't for this fresh start in her dream job, she would have been happy to jump between the sheets with him. He wasn't made for commitment, and neither was she, so in theory, they would have worked well together for a finite period of time.

She chastised herself for thinking such thoughts. Her steely inner resolve had brought her to this point, and it would continue to serve her best interests, as long as she was willing to listen to it. Randy would just have to remain as the fantasy figure that dominated her dreams. That would be enough. She owed it to herself to fulfill her destiny and change this company for the better.


Iseult kept her promise to herself, and spent the next fortnight working every hour that God sent.

She had conducted her first radio interviews via phone, participated in a Twitter Q & A, and continued to kick ass in training. Her profile was in the ascent, a fact that was evident when she was featured on the WWE Power Rankings list for the first time – all without even having wrestled a match for the WWE yet.

Stephen had continued to be a good friend – hyping her up to his own million plus Twitter followers. It was awesome to receive such positive feedback and support – it was a stark contrast to the crap that she had endured for several lonely years as she worked toward this point.

Although it frustrated her that she hadn't yet been afforded the opportunity to wrestle a full-length match, she had to remind herself that she was being given the best push imaginable, and that everything would eventually fall into place. In the meantime, it was her duty to ensure that she would be in the best possible shape when that moment arrived. After all - fortune favoured the prepared.

On the previous week's edition of RAW, Iseult had not shown her face. Instead, her character had left her mark in another way – by draping the material from her in-ring outfit throughout Randy's bedroom on his tour bus. His character had been rattled by her little surprise, causing the advantage to shift back in her direction. If social media was any indicator, the WWE universe had made it clear that they were loving this feud, and were curious as to what she would do next. They had expected to see her last week, but her noticeable absence had only increased the anticipation for tonight's show.


"I came in like a wrrrrecking ball, I never hit so hard in love," Iseult sang softly to herself, tapping her fingers against her thighs as she walked around backstage, her iPod on blast. She had just completed the most divine stretching session in the trainer's room, which had freed up her body and put an extra pep in her step.

"All I wanted was to break your ballllllls…."

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned around.

Gideon stood there, a wide grin on his handsome face. She took out her ear-buds, and returned his smile.

"I always took you for a ballbreaker," he laughed. "Do you realise how loudly you were singing?"

"I was not!" She insisted…pretty loudly, now that she could hear herself again. "Oops. Yeah, I have been known to bust some balls in my time. It's not my fault that Miley wrote about my life experiences, though. She's really changed, hasn't she? Singing about breaking balls and being wrecked by a giant penis."

Gideon let out an undignified snort, followed by several sharp splutters of shocked laughter. Iseult looked at him quizzically, raising her eyebrows as she watched him attempt to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?"

He held up a finger, bringing his other hand up to his mouth so that he could cough into his fist and kill his giggle-fit. He cleared his throat, before meeting her eyes again.

"I hate to be the one to break this to you, but Miley wants to break walls - not balls," he informed her solemnly.

"Walls? That doesn't make any sense. It's all about how her man is so well-endowed that he keeps on wrecking her, so now she wants revenge…" Iseult trailed off as she pulled out her phone and Googled the lyrics. Her mouth formed a little O as she scanned through the words. "…My bad."

"Please don't ever change," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "I promise that I have a good reason for interrupting your little karaoke session. Alison asked you to go see her when you get a minute. I think she has yet another fabulous outfit planned for you. She has really taken a shine to you, which is a good thing. You don't want to get on the bad side of the wardrobe team, otherwise…well, two words: frumpy grandma."

Iseult thought about his description for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders. "At least it would make me stand out. A hot looking woman isn't anything new around these parts. Frumpy Grandma would be a breath of fresh air."

"I hadn't thought about it like that," he mused thoughtfully. "You really are here to make an impact, aren't you?"

"Oh yes," she nodded, a determined look in her eye. "Although, if I was a frumpy grandma, I doubt that certain Superstars would be kissing me in the middle of the ring. But that wouldn't phase frumpy grandma. She's way over that kind of stuff. As am I."

He gave her a disbelieving look, crossing his arms. "I didn't want to bring it up, but since you did…is there something going on between you and Randy? You two have some unbelievable chemistry, so I can't say that I would be surprised if there was."

She gave him a firm shake of her head, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

"Nope. Nothing to see there. Like I said, frumpy grandma and I have other concerns."

"Such as….?"

"Such as…our wardrobes! Later, Gideon!"

She hurried away from him, throwing a quick wave over her shoulder, keen to evade further interrogation.


Alison was kneeling by a mannequin on the floor of the wardrobe department when Iseult walked in. She had several clothespins clasped between her lips, frowning in concentration as she pinned back folds of green and gold material.

Iseult waved at her, and pulled herself up on to a worktop, swinging her legs as she waited for her friend to finish.

"That should do it," the designer announced, standing up and moving back to assess her handiwork.

"Ooh, I like," Iseult murmured admiringly. "Which lucky lady gets to wear that?"

"Lady?" Alison asked in confusion, turning to look at her. "This is for Big Show."

Iseult firmly closed her mouth, raised her eyebrows, and tried to look supportive.

"It will really showcase his best assets…like his legs…and…boobs."

"Exactly!" Alison agreed, snapping her fingers and grinning. "Although, the more I look at it, the more I think that it just won't do the man justice. So, you might as well have it."

"Yay!" Iseult slipped from her perch and skipped over to the outfit, admiring the green velvet and golden detail on the top and shorts. "It's very old school Celtic woman. I like. I like a lot."

"I'm glad. It's awesome to design for you and your lovely porcelain skin, it makes for a refreshing change."

"Get a tan, weirdo," Brad Maddox snarked as he emerged from behind a curtain, a pair of eye-wateringly tiny trunks slung over his shoulder as he rocked out of the room.

"Get a bigger pair…of trunks," she sniped right back, earning a middle finger for all of her efforts.

"People really warm up to you right away, don't they?" Alison smiled, presenting the outfit with a flourish.

"I'm a born people person," she shrugged, laughing a little. "Right, give me two seconds."

She quickly shed her workout gear, forgetting that wardrobe was technically still a public department. She noted that several swatches of velvet connected the top and shorts, crossing over in slim lines at her back and stomach. Alison was really getting the hang of this 'don't mention the scar' business.

"Now, stay very still, I don't want to stab you," Alison warned, kneeling down in front of her. "But I will, if you don't tell me the truth."

"Huh?"

Alison threw her a knowing look. "You and a certain Viper. You managed to avoid my questions at the photoshoot, but you can't run from me now. Have you seen the photos? You can practically feel the heat coming from you two when you look at them. So much sexual tension."

"What are you talking about? It's called doing my job."

"Have you banged him yet? You can tell me the truth. I won't breathe a word of it to a soul."

Iseult's mouth fell open in shock. Was Alison, the sweetest woman in the entire company, really talking about banging?

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. "There is nothing going on between us. We have good chemistry, which is great for our storyline, but that's as far as it goes. And no, we haven't banged, as you so eloquently put it."

"Girl, I would love to believe you, if it weren't for your pupils being shot to pieces and your skin being covered in goosebumps right now."

"Yeah, which are signs of frustration," Iseult snapped, instantly feeling bad about her reaction.

"Yeah, sexual frustration," Alison mumbled, a smile curving across her lips as she pinned a section of the shorts.

"You're right, I am sexually frustrated. But that has nothing to do with Randy. I'm a woman. I have needs. I have a ridiculous schedule, and am unattached. These things happen."

"Aha! So something has happened!" Alison's face lit up in triumph.

Iseult let out a loud groan and threw her eyes up to the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, she said as calmly as she could, "For the last time, Randy and I are not sleeping together. We're strictly onscreen make-out buddies. I am single and desperate for a man, but that man will not be Randal Keith Orton."

"Why the hell not?" Alison asked incredulously, standing up. Seeing the glare that Iseult offered her, she put her hands up and backed away.

"Okay, okay, I'll drop it. I will say one last thing – if that man throws himself at you tomorrow, it would be a crime against womankind to turn him down. The sisterhood would never forgive you."

Iseult laughed weakly, mentally kicking herself. Alison was right, no straight woman in her right mind would kick Randy out of bed, but she had somehow managed to walk away. This made her a first class idiot, but at least she still had her dream job. That would certainly keep her warm at night, and put a smile on her face in the morning…yeah…


"It's show time!" Vince McMahon himself yelled from the gorilla, pointing his finger at the blackout sheet that separated the sacrosanct backstage area from the front of house.

Iseult nodded at him, before pulling back the curtain and strolling toward the ramp. She was decked out in Alison's latest design, which drew appreciative wolf whistles from the crowd. Choosing to ignore them, (although giving a few troglodytes a piece of her mind was very tempting, not to mention completely appropriate heel behaviour), she twirled her hair and kept her large blue eyes wide and innocent.

Randy had been in the middle of a promo when she approached the ring. He watched her with wary interest as she drew closer, a sweet smile on her face, her startlingly beautiful eyes enhanced even further by the false eyelashes that Vince had insisted she wear. She had acquiesced eventually, but swore that it would be a cold day in hell before they got her into the tanning booth. Pale was her way, godammnit.

She slithered under the lower ropes, pausing on her knees momentarily to run her eyes over his entire body. She fluidly stood up and took a moment to fuss with the material at her waist, a pointed reminder of her little stunt last week. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she smiled to herself.

Once again, his body remained tight and ready to pounce, should she pull any more tricks.

Oh no, no, no. We can't have that, she thought to herself. Also, GUHHH, you're unfortunately still a gorgeous man that I can never enjoy outside of working hours.

Grabbing a mic, she prepared to speak for the first time inside of the ring.

"Randy, you look so tense," she mused slowly. "I can't help but feel that I am partly to blame for your unease."

He raised his eyebrows, as if to say Oh, really?

Crossing his massive arms, he maintained a defensive stance.

"Although I have enjoyed our little cat and mouse game…I am willing to call a truce, if you'll agree to it."

He remained stony-faced, still unsure as to whether he could trust her.

"You seem wary of my offer, and I can't say that I blame you," she continued, beginning to slowly pace back and forth in front of him.

"I have been unpredictable, to say the least. But it has occurred to me that you and I are not so different. In fact, you could say that we have a lot in common. Wouldn't you agree?"

He shot her an almost imperceptible smirk, spearing her with a hot look.

She felt her sex clench, but refused to be thrown off of her game by him.

"We love to be adored, we live for our moments inside the ring, and we both have a fondness for baby oil." She threw him a sly wink as the crowd let out a salacious "Ooooooh."

"I can see that you might need some evidence of my sincerity. So, as proof of my faith in second chances, I will put my safety in your hands and submit to a trust test. I am willing to fall backwards with my eyes closed, and trust that you will catch me. Are you in?"

She could see that he was slowly starting to come around to the idea. He uncrossed his arms and shook them out, taking a moment to think.

He reached forward to take the mic from her and intoned, "I'm in."

Iseult shot him a winning smile as she strode toward him. With a swing of her hips, she turned to face the opposite direction and made a big show of taking a deep breath and fixing her long hair.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, noticing that he hadn't braced himself for her fall.

Raising an eyebrow, she looked directly up at him and mouthed, "I trust you."

Closing her eyes, she flung her arms out and fell back gracefully. The drop lasted longer than she expected, causing a brief swell of panic to rise up in her stomach, before she felt his muscular arms scoop her up.

Phew. That was a little too close for comfort, buddy!

His large hands spanned the length of her midriff, holding her snugly against him. She placed her own hands over his, and gave them a little squeeze. He went to release her, but she crossed his forearms over one another, pulling his chest up against her back. Keeping her hold on him, she tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"I knew I could trust you," she whispered, loudly enough for the audio team to pick it up. She silently cursed Creative for making her say those particular words to him.

Reluctantly, she moved out of his embrace, taking a few steps towards the ropes.

He watched her intently, his bright blue eyes holding something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Without warning, she rushed backwards at him, grabbing his neck with her right forearm, and flinging her legs up in the air as her body travelled to the ground, bringing him with her.

"RKO! RKO!" She heard Jerry Lawler yell in disbelief.

The crowd immediately went quiet, unable to comprehend what had just happened. It looked like she had managed to fool them all.

They then burst back into life, boos ringing around the arena.

Iseult smiled indulgently at them, before glancing down at her trust-buddy, who lay prone on the mat. She stood up, and reached down to flip him over on to his back. It took all of her might to move his dead weight, causing her to raise her arms in triumph when she succeeded. This only served to incense the crowd even further. She stood over Randy, smiling proudly, with her hands on her hips as she stared down at him.

Preparing for her final death-blow, she eased down on to his hips, so that she was straddling him. Placing her hands on either side of his head, she inched her face closer and closer to his until she could feel his breath on her lips. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, so that the camera didn't miss a thing, she leaned in and planted a kiss on his luscious mouth.

"We're going to have so much fun," she promised him, certain that the mics scattered around the ring would pick up her words.

She wasn't yet aware of just how fun things were going to get…


Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.

A/N: batwolfgirl, Thoughts in Chaos, Sinistergateslegend, Awake-the-Dark and Violets in the rain – your reviews are very much appreciated, and spur me on with this story. It is beyond cool to get your feedback. I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! (Don't judge me too harshly for my attempt at comedy, I was trying to lighten the mood for Iseult!)

Her single-minded nature is going to cause her some trouble. Randy's preference for being unpredictable won't help, either…ruh roh!