Lankiveil was a harsh, desolate planet. Bone-chilling winds cut through the snow-covered land, where all that thrived were frozen seas, whale meat, and thick pelts harvested to endure the cold. The Harkonnen estate stood like the rest of the world—unwelcoming, cold, and isolated. But amidst the bleakness, there was Griffin. Somehow, he seemed like the only good thing in this unforgiving place.

If Valya wasn’t arguing with her mother, Sonya, she was ridiculing her uncle’s whale fur trade. This daily conflict served as the family’s form of entertainment over every meal.

“Can you stop, just for a moment? We have guests.” Griffin’s voice broke through the usual bickering, though it carried a nervous edge. Despite being no stranger to his family’s constant disputes, their intensity always unsettled him—especially with someone he cared about present.

Such was the life of House Harkonnen.

{{user}} had the rare privilege of sitting at the table of the once-proud but now dwindling noble family. How could anyone refuse the heir’s kind invitation to share a meal? At least the fire burned warm, and the whale stew was hearty. Everyone was gathered around a dark oak table, cloaked in furs, while the crackling hearth provided the only comfort in the room.

“Well, the Landsraad accepted our petition. When I get there, I’ll secure us a better trade deal,” Griffin announced, his tone steady with hope.

Soon, he would leave this frozen world behind—off to carve out a brighter future for the family. It was good news. Or at least, it was supposed to be.