Chapter Text
The alarm went off at 5:30 AM — loud, sharp, and way too unforgiving in the quiet of the luxury home.
Jacaerys Velaryon let out a low groan as he stirred, eyes half-lidded, blindly reaching toward the snooze button — but he didn’t hit it. He never did.
He’d worked late the night before, but that wasn’t an excuse to sleep in. It never was.
Late nights or not, routine was sacred.
Dragging himself out of bed, muscles aching with fatigue, Jace paused for a moment and ran a tired hand down his face.
His eyes flicked to the other side of the bed — still perfectly made, untouched. No surprise there.
**
By 5:45, he was in the small home gym, pounding the treadmill like clockwork. His breathing steadied with every minute, the soreness burning off with the churn of his legs.
Exercise was non-negotiable. Just because he worked corporate didn’t mean he had an excuse to eat poorly or let his body go soft. Discipline was the baseline. The rest—expectations, pressure, image—stacked on top.
Halfway through his run, his phone buzzed. He answered without slowing down, tapping the Bluetooth already in his ear.
“Morning, Arryk,” Jace said, breath even mid-jog.
“You sound disgustingly healthy for a man who slept four hours,” Arryk said.
The man was his secretary-slash-right-hand-man. Too chipper for this hour, as usual.
“Habit. You calling to check on my cardio, or is this about the presentation?”
“Both, actually. But mostly to say you’re going to crush it. Kingsgate Holdings has no idea what’s about to hit them.”
“Let’s hope,” Jace replied, dry. “Thanks, Arryk.”
“I’ll have the revised slides in your inbox in fifteen. Now go drink something weird and green like you always do.”
The call ended. Jace finished his run, chest heaving but resolve unshaken.
**
His shower was quick and efficient—twenty minutes, no more.
By 6:30, he was in the kitchen, towel slung around his neck, hair still damp.
He moved with habitual precision: measuring powders, blending greens, pouring almond milk.
The blender roared, and he scrolled through emails on his tablet with his free hand.
Quarterly projections. Internal memos. One irritating reminder about the water feature in the King’s Landing branch lobby still being broken. He made a mental note to call Facilities.
Smoothie: downed in three fast gulps.
Then came the eggs—two plates. Scrambled for him, plain and practical. Omelettes on the side, as always, whether or not Lucerys woke in time to eat.
A pot of coffee—dark, unsweetened—finished the routine.
He sat at the kitchen island, barely three bites into his eggs, when his phone buzzed again.
A message from his mother.
Sweet boy. I know today is big—and I know you’ll crush it. Just like always. We’re proud. Keep your shoulders back and chin up.
Jace stared at the screen for a long moment.
A warm ache bloomed in his chest. Encouragement—genuine, as always. Loving. Steady.
But it felt like both a hand on his back and a weight on his shoulders.
He locked the screen and exhaled slowly.
Another sip of coffee. Bitterness on his tongue.
It wasn’t easy being the heir.
But easy had never been part of the deal.
**
The sound of slow, dragging feet echoed faintly down the hall.
Jacaerys didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
Lucerys emerged from the hallway like a sleep-deprived specter—hoodie thrown over his pajamas, hair a tangled mess, eyes half-lidded and deeply unimpressed with the existence of morning.
“You said you didn’t have class until noon,” Jace commented, brow raised as he forked another bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“Mmm,” Lucerys mumbled, collapsing into a stool. “I’ve got shifts. Assignment kept me up. I’m running on fumes and spite.”
His brother had been living with him for about a semester now since starting university, and he was nothing like the typical student.
While most of his peers partied when they could, Lucerys preferred work—lots of it.
“Shifts?” Jace frowned, rising from his seat and heading toward the coffee pot.
“Yeah.” Luke yawned dramatically. “Gas station first. Then the brunch shift at the restaurant. Maybe a nap somewhere in between. Or death. Whichever comes first.”
Jace chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he poured a second mug of coffee. He slid it toward Lucerys wordlessly.
His brother perked up immediately at that.
“Oh. Coffee, my love.” He clutched the mug like it was holy. “I take back every curse I muttered about you in the bathroom mirror.”
Jace smirked. “Charming.”
He placed the second plate—a fluffy, golden omelette—in front of him. Lucerys blinked at it, then grinned as he dug in.
“This one has cheese in it,” Lucerys said, beaming with delight.
“Of course it does,” Jace replied, sipping his own coffee. “I’m not a monster.”
A moment passed in companionable silence, filled only by quiet chewing and the occasional happy hum from Lucerys.
Then Jace asked, “Gas station and restaurant again? How many shifts is that this week?”
Working wasn’t a bad thing. But his brother’s relentless schedule was starting to worry him.
Lucerys shrugged mid-bite. “Three at the gas station, four at the restaurant. And tutoring on Saturday. I think.”
“Luke.” Jace’s voice dipped, edged with concern. “You know you don’t have to do all of this, right? We’re not hurting for money. You’re not hurting for money.”
Lucerys didn’t look up right away.
Then, nonchalantly, “I like being busy. I don’t want to feel...useless.”
Jace studied him for a beat, unsure what part of that made his chest tighten.
But he didn’t push. Not yet.
He only nodded, quietly admiring the stubborn grit in his baby brother’s sleepy scowl.
**
The boardroom was sleek, silent, and heavy with expectation.
Chrome edges, marble floors, and leather chairs gave it a cold kind of gravitas.
Behind Jacaerys, a massive screen displayed the logo of Targaryen-Velaryon Holdings, along with the words:
Quarterly Investment Outlook – King’s Landing Branch.
Jace stood tall in a charcoal-grey suit, eyes calm, voice steady. His confidence wasn’t loud — it was controlled, sharp, practiced.
“…And as you can see, the revised logistics plan cuts maritime transport time by 18%. Combined with the new AI-driven warehousing model, projected Q3 revenue should meet — if not exceed — our earlier forecasts.”
Click. The screen shifted, graphs and projections moving with his cadence.
Across from him sat a row of investors — sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued, and unimpressed by anything less than airtight answers.
“What about the supply chain issue in Oldtown?” one man asked.
“Already handled,” Jace replied smoothly. “We diversified local contracts last month and onboarded a third-tier supplier as backup. Contingency models are on slide 19.”
A brief pause. Pages flipped. Someone murmured to a colleague.
“And the labor strike at the port?”
“Resolved. New agreements were signed last week. We offered training incentives, not just raises. Productivity is already trending upward.”
The questions kept coming — drilling into margins, risks, dependencies.
Jace didn’t miss a beat.
His voice never wavered. He wasn’t just reciting numbers — he knew them. Understood them.
Stayed three steps ahead, the way his mother had taught him.
Finally, the barrage slowed. The room quieted — that particular kind of silence that followed reluctant approval.
An older investor leaned back with a faint smile. “Well… looks like Rhaenyra’s heir isn’t just a figurehead after all. Seems you’ve got more than the name — you’ve got the brains to match.”
There was an edge to it — a test, maybe. Or a jab.
Jacaerys let a small smile tug at his lips. He didn’t bite. He never did. His mother had taught him better.
“My mother didn’t raise me to ride on legacy,” he said calmly. “She raised me to build one of my own.”
A few chuckles followed. The tension eased.
Just like that, the meeting was done.
**
Afterwards, he felt victorious — as always.
Jace had been managing the King’s Landing branch for a while now, but the rush that came with a win never really faded.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Jace stepped out, his secretary practically bouncing beside him.
“Sir, that was flawless,” Arryk — young, stylish, and perpetually upbeat — beamed up at him. “You owned them in there. I swear, I saw old man Ryston’s eye twitch. That only happens when he’s been intellectually humiliated.”
Jace let out a small chuckle, loosening his tie just a fraction. “He asked fair questions. I had answers. That’s how it works.”
“No, no — that’s how you work,” Arryk grinned, tucking his tablet under one arm. “You make shark-infested waters look like a kiddie pool. Seriously.”
Jace smiled but never let the compliments gas him up, humility was always best.
They walked in silence for a few moments when Arryk spoke up.
“By the way, A couple of my friends are hitting the bars later — you should come. The city owes you a drink. Or six.”
Jace blinked, slightly surprised by the offer. “Clubbing?”
“Yes. Loud music. Dancing. Flirting. You know — that thing normal people do when they aren’t trying to conquer capitalism by thirty-five.”. Arryk teased
Jace laughed lightly but shook his head.
“I’ll pass. I’ve got reports to revise and quarterly models to prep. Maybe next time.”
Not to mention — those kinds of places had never really appealed to him.
Arryk groaned dramatically. “Ugh, you’re a machine. I’m almost convinced you run on jet fuel.”
Before Jace could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen lit up with one name.
Mom.
Jace immediately straightened, his tone shifting. “Excuse me.”
He stepped aside and answered the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Jacaerys,” came her voice — warm, regal, unmistakable. “The investors have already sent word. News travels fast.”
Jace smiled despite himself. “Good word, I hope.”
“Excellent word. I’m proud of you. I knew you’d deliver — you always do.” There was a pause, her tone softening. “Your father would’ve been proud, too.”
That caught in Jace’s chest — quiet, unspoken.
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
“I will.”
The call ended, and Jace stood there for a moment longer, expression unreadable — tired, proud, and heavy all at once.
But her approval — that was more than enough.
**
The kitchen smelled of garlic, seared vegetables, and sizzling chicken.
Jacaerys moved with practiced ease, plating dinner while his laptop blinked quietly in the corner — emails still unread.
He glanced at the time — just past eight. Late, by their standards.
“Luke,” he called, wiping his hands on a towel, “dinner’s ready.”
Soft footsteps padded down the hallway, and Lucerys appeared — hoodie hanging off his frame, hair a tousled mess, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
“Smells good,” he mumbled, flopping onto a stool at the kitchen island.
Jace studied him, frowning. “You look exhausted.”
“Had to finish a last-minute group project,” Lucerys said, poking at his food. “Oh — and I’ve got the gas station shift tomorrow night.”
Jace’s brow furrowed. “Luke… the graveyard shift? Again?”
Lucerys shrugged and took a bite. “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine — they both knew that.
“You’re an omega. That’s dangerous—”
“It’s a safe location,” Luke cut in quickly. “Cameras. Panic button. Plus, I’ve got pepper spray and vicious sarcasm.”
Jace didn’t laugh. He sighed, shaking his head, but let it go — for now. He’d already checked the place out; it was secure. On top of that, there was 24-hour security.
His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen — a text from Arryk, a pinned location followed by:
Still time to join the dark side. Drinks, music, possibly poor decisions. Come on, sir. Be less responsible for once.
Jace let out a quiet, amused huff — but Lucerys caught the slight crease between his brows.
“Something wrong?”
“Just Arryk,” Jace said. “He’s trying to drag me to a club.”
Lucerys paused mid-chew, then perked up. “You should go.”
Jace blinked. “What?”
“Seriously. You’re always working. Go. Be reckless. I’ll even lend you my jacket — your wardrobe’s a banker’s fever dream.”
Jace scoffed. “It’s clean and professional.”
“It’s sad beige,” his brother teased.
They exchanged a grin before Lucerys grew a little more serious.
“You deserve a night off, Jace. One night of fun won’t kill anyone.”
Jace looked down at his plate, then back at Luke.
He’d spent months preparing for today’s presentation. And there was always another project, another report, another demand waiting for him.
Maybe... maybe a night off wasn’t the worst idea.
He exhaled slowly. Then nodded. “Alright. One night.”
Unbeknownst to him, his life had already begun to shift — just waiting to collide with him beneath neon lights and deep bass.