!! contains spoilers for season 2 of Succession generally but MAJOR episode 10 SPOILERS !!
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Shiv Roy was never satisfied. Whether that was in her work life or her love life, Shiv was always striving for the best angle. She would never settle for something that was any less than what she thought she deserved. Then why, why was it so hard to find someone who could keep up with her? But no, that wasn’t it, because even someone like Nate couldn’t satisfy Shiv in the end. Then there was Tom. In theory great, but still not enough. It was her interest that always, inevitably, waned.
I suppose Shiv always knew, but shoved it so deep down out of necessity. It was hard enough in the business world to be a woman as it is. She had to work ten times harder than her brothers to be taken seriously, and face ten times as much criticism when she fucked up. Misogyny was a bitch, but homophobia was worse. Never mind that her own father is the king of right wing news media, and has single handedly done more damage to the societal position of ethnic and sexual minorities than perhaps any other person in America. The world, even. Never mind that his reaction would break her, surely negative. Not out of hatred for queers specifically—Logan hated everyone, after all, especially his own children. Shiv could imagine his disproving gaze, one she was all too familiar with. His lecture on how, if it ever came out, it could, no would scare the shareholders. It would ruin everything. Never mind all that. Never mind that her first kiss was with a girl in boarding school, who left after the second term. Her first heartbreak. Never mind that the best sex she ever had was during a threesome, kissing some girl she hasn’t seen since. Never mind her disappointment when Tom said no to the threesome with a girl she’d picked out on the Roy’s yacht. Shiv could’ve fucked her anyway but the risk was
too high. Too many snakes lounging on deck chairs and sipping drinks around too polite conversation. Too many eyes. Shiv Roy liked to be in control of the narrative, the when, where and who—no interruptions or mishaps.
She sat glumly on the beach next to her husband, face frowning like a child who’d been scolded, suppressing her tears that showed up on queue. She loved Tom, is what she told herself. Maybe she did. She’d loved how easy he was to convince, how trusting he was, almost like a dog. A big soft lump, sentimental enough to get choked up at their wedding. But his vulnerability, his weakness was also why Shiv could never love him the way he needed her to. Shiv did not have a soft bone in her body. And dogs learn not to trust humans that hit them, over and over again.
Shiv Roy was never satisfied with anyone. Whether that was due to her narcissism or her abidance to compulsory heterosexuality, was anyone’s guess. Shiv had built her icy grave, cold and frigid walls unreachable by all human warmth, totally isolated.
She lay in it.