The Cold Heir

Ved followed his mother and sister into the sitting room, where a fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth doing little to dispel the frosty atmosphere.

Lady Lyanna's sharp voice cut through the tension. "Enough. We have matters to discuss, and I won't have the two of you bickering like children."

As they took their seats, Lady Lyanna wasted no time. "You've been gone for far too long, Ved. The family's position grows precarious, and your absence has not gone unnoticed by our allies—or our enemies."

"I've been handling matters of my own," Ved replied, his tone calm but firm.

"And yet, you return with nothing," Lyra interjected, her eyes narrowing. "Do you even understand the weight of your position, brother? Or are you too busy playing outside?"

Ved's gaze hardened. "I understand my position better than you think, Lyra. And I don't need to justify my actions to you."

The room grew silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Lady Lyanna finally spoke, her tone as icy as ever. "Enough. Ved, you are the heir to this family, but that title comes with expectations. If you cannot meet them, perhaps we should reconsider your position."

Ved's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He knew better than to rise to her provocations.

The tension that had followed Ved into the Flack estate lingered in the halls like a restless specter. The chill wasn't just in the air but in the very foundation of the family dynamics. After his mother and sister, it was time to face the man who had shaped his childhood through absence and indifference. His father, Lord Dario Flack.

Dario Flack was a towering man with a commanding presence that even years of estrangement couldn't diminish. His deep Icy blue eyes were sharp, calculating, and cold, much like his children had come to expect. His black hair, streaked with the faintest traces of white, and his fur-lined black and silver cloak gave him the air of a man who thrived in the unforgiving frost.

Ved stood in his father's study, a room filled with towering shelves of books and artifacts that spoke of the Flack family's long and storied history. Dario barely glanced up from a pile of documents on his desk, his quill scratching against parchment the only sound in the room.

"You've returned," Dario said without looking up, his voice flat and unwelcoming.

"Father," Ved replied, his tone respectful but distant.

Dario finally set down the quill, leaning back in his chair. His gaze settled on Ved, cold and unyielding. "I don't have much time, so I'll be brief. Your actions, or rather your failures, on the surface have been noted. The family's resources are not infinite, Ved, and every misstep you take reflects poorly on us all."

Ved bristled at the accusation but remained composed. "I've handled every challenge I've faced. The situation on the surface is far more complex than you realize."

Dario raised a hand to silence him. "Spare me your excuses. Do you think I'm unaware of your dungeon quest failure? I've poured countless resources into this family's ventures, only to see them squandered on foolish pursuits. Do you have any idea the cost of your failed dungeon expedition alone? The Flack name carries weight, but even that weight is not infinite."

Ved's fists clenched at his sides. "The dungeon expedition wasn't a failure. The circumstances—"

"Circumstances?" Dario interrupted, his voice rising. "Circumstances don't matter, Ved. Results do. And as it stands, your results leave much to be desired."

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Dario leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Do not think for a moment that your position as heir is guaranteed. Your sister has been born minutes before you, but also her capabilities have never been in question. Should I find that you are no longer fit to lead this family, the title will be hers. Do I make myself clear?"

Ved's jaw tightened, his gaze locked on his father's. "Yes father."

Dario leaned back once more, his expression unreadable. "Good. Then perhaps you'll consider the gravity of your position before you squander more of this family's legacy."

Ved said nothing, his silence a mix of defiance and self-restraint.

As he turned to leave, Dario's voice stopped him in his tracks. "You and Lyra may have grown up in the same house, but don't mistake proximity for equality. She understands what it means to carry the Flack name. Prove to me that you do, or you will find yourself replaced."

Ved didn't respond. He started to walk out of the study, his mind swirling with a storm of emotions. His father's words stung, but they weren't unexpected. 

This was the environment he and Lyra had grown up in—a house where expectations were suffocating, where love was conditional, and where the only thing colder than the air was the people who lived within its walls.

Just as he reached the door, his father called out once more, "And Ved, there's going to be a family dinner tonight. Be there."