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Loyalty (1869)

— by Briton Rivière

Loyalty (2025)

Give me Shane "hates clubbing and bars" Hollander not minding Kingfisher in the afternoon but refusing to go at night. Give me Shane never understanding the slang (he's never online) and being overstimulated by drag brunch (it's so LOUD and nothing fits his diet even once he loosens it a little and brunch as a concept throws off his entire routine) and utterly bored by any TV show that isn't the latest game replay (is this reality TV? Is it a drama? He can't remember and he can't tell the difference but honestly he'd rather be watching hockey) and unable to remember the difference between Lady Gaga and Cher (he never listens to music anyway) and completely disinterested in changing his wardrobe (for fancy events he wears whatever his stylist tells him to but not anything adventurous, because he just wants to look acceptable not make a statement).

Give me Shane feeling alienated from gay culture the way he sometimes feels alienated from Japanese culture and being so frustrated that being himself, exactly as he is, still isn't good enough for anyone.

Give me a Shane Hollander who doesn't want to be "the gay hockey player" the same way he doesn't want to be "the Asian hockey player" but he'll suck it up because he's such an inspiration, don't you know how many kids look up to you? Don't you know how much it matters to them to see you out there loud and proud?

Give me Shane finally snapping at Ilya that clearly he's not "super gay" if he's so bad at it, because he's sick and tired of everyone being disappointed that he's not up on whatever the latest queer culture trend is and he does not want to be a "gay icon," he just wants to play hockey and love his husband, and he's not magically a different person now that everyone knows he's gay.

Give me Ilya reckoning with how coming out has only put more expectations on Shane's shoulders and noticing the roles Shane is always forced into - the Asian player, the gay player - and understanding a bit more why privacy seemed like a better guarantee of freedom to Shane than openness.

Tagged by the wonderful @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks

I’ve been working on a Heated Rivalry fantasy au inspired by @sleepyfortress amazing fantasy artwork; go check it out if you haven’t seen it already - you can also purchase prints from their website!!!

Here are some previous snippets: Thee Queen Yuna snippet and Ilya’s thoughts on the Crowned Prince

I think this is going to be the start of the fic, even though starting with a dream is such a cliche, hope you enjoy!!

Ilya was dreaming about his Mother, she looks like she did on that fateful day, unnaturally pale with blood loss, deep sunken eyes that had never been truly happy. She was trying to tell him something but her mouth had been cruelly sown shut. He was able to do nothing but watch in horror as she tore her lips in desperation to get the words out. With tattered, bloody lips, she rasped “Don’t trust him.”

“Ilyusha,” a hand shakes his shoulder, “wake up!”

Ilya bolts awake, nearly head butting Svetlana in his panic. “What? What is it?” He asks, eyes scanning his tent for anything to explain the urgency in Svetlana’s voice, a hand already curling around the pummel of his knife.

“I’m so sorry, Ilyusha,” He can’t remember the last time he heard her so gentle, not since…but no it couldn’t be…“It is your father…the King has died.”

He could hear it now, the sounds of a camp awake in the dead of night but not with the urgency of an army about to be attacked. “When?”

“The page just arrived, he left as soon as the doctors confirmed it.” They were a few days ride from the capitol, that meant his father had been dead for days and Ilya hadn’t even known, had been going about his days like everything was normal, when it would never be again.

“My brother?”

Svetlana scoffed, “He is requesting your presence for the coronation, its in two days time, we’ll have to ride through the night to make it.”

His heart clenched, “We?”

“You think I would let you walk into that vipers nest alone?”

“Svet…what would I do without you.”

She consider it for a moment, like he was truly asking, “Probably perish and die.”

He attempted a smile, “Probably,” he wasn’t sure what his face was doing but Svetlana took one look at it and pulled him into a hug. He blinked back tears, unsure if the disturbing dream with his mother or the news of his father’s death was responsible for the sudden overwhelming emotion.

“You can talk to me,” Svetlana said when she finally pulled back and if anyone knew about the complicated relationship between the King and the second-born Prince, it was Svetlana, as his oldest friend she would not judge him for the emotions but she would have an opinion on the cryptic dream. She would say it was a warning from the gods and Ilya would say it was just another nightmare to join the rest of them. He dreamed about his mother many times in the years since her passing, though it usually was a memory, he’d probably just drunk too much last night is all.

“I know, Svet, but I’m okay,” It was mostly the truth.

“Okay,” She seemed skeptical but let it go, she pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before climbing off the bed, “Come on, we must haste, you must speak to your men before we leave.”

Tagging some people who might be interested:

Right before this piece 🫢