"Your Grace," the violet-eyed stranger said once the door had shut behind them, and with a jolt of surprise, Dany looked away from the tapestry to see that the man was addressing Jon Stark. "May I present my Sworn Brother, Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard." He paused, just long enough for Ser Oswell to take the knee and Jon Stark to give a deep, albeit distracted, nod of acknowledgement. "And your aunt, the Princess Daenerys." He turned towards her, then. "My Princess. I apologise for the rough handling and the secrecy, but not everywhere is safe, even in the seat of your family's power." He paused a moment, inclining his head to her. "May I present to you your nephew, Jaehaerys of Houses Targaryen and Stark, Third of his Name and the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms."
Dany's breath caught. Her eyes immediately swooped back to Jon Stark. And she saw what she had not, before. His familiarity had a reason after all, then. He shared Viserys' nose and chin. His mouth, while more generous, seemed to come from the same cast. The slant of their eyebrows and the curve of their foreheads were nearly the same, for all that Jon Stark's was set in a longer face. She did not know what to make of it. She did not understand, could not make all the pieces fit. A rush of blood to her head made her dizzy, made her sway on her feet. In front of her, Jon Stark's eyes seemed to have widened, and he was staring at her in mute shock, which, even then, did not look quite as great as the one that was threatening to send her crashing to the floor at any moment.
Out the corner of her eye, she was vaguely aware of a door that was open to just a crack. It must lead to his bedchambers. And as she watched, most of her attention still on this boy they claimed was her nephew, she just barely caught sight of the door opening fully. Something came through, squeaking softly and balancing precariously on immature limbs. It looked like an awkward winged lizard, its scales glittering black and white.
It stared at her with red eyes, and something inside Dany went still at the sight. Her fears and uncertainties seemed to wash away, and all she could do was stare at the tiny thing. Another one came out behind it, milky white and violet, and another, pale blue and silver, and a final one of green and black, and Dany sucked in a sharp breath. Awe raised her up, and she was so amazed, so, so... She did not know the words to describe it. She was home. She was safe. What they had said was true. She did not know the details yet, and she did not need to, not with true dragons staring her in the face from behind the form of her nephew. She was home.
Gasping out a sudden sob, she rushed forward and threw her arms around Jon Stark, Jaehaerys Targaryen, whatever his name was, and clutched him to her. Rather more slowly, his arms came up to encircle her, but when they finally did, he clutched her to him, shuddering against her, his breath uneven against her temple. "My sweet nephew," she breathed, even though he was bigger and stronger and older than her. "My sweet, sweet nephew." He just held her more tightly.
Dany could not have possibly said how long they stood there, both fighting down sobs as they clung to each other. The three knights of the Kingsguard in the chamber - and she knew that must be what they all were - did nothing to interrupt. Even the dragons did not interrupt, though she thought she felt them climbing all around them, tiny claws clinging to their clothes while carefully never piercing their skin. And she felt home, and she felt safe, like she never had before. She did have family, family that was not Viserys, someone with her blood who would not harm or punish her for something she could not help, and that was everything, all she had ever wanted. From the way he held her, she thought he must feel at least a little of the same.
At long last a knock on the door interrupted them. The servant did not come in; apparently they were well trained, as befit Dragonstone. "Lord Stark," the servant called through the heavy wood of the door. "The Lady Margaery is near to birthing the babe. Lady Olenna requests that you come to the birthing chamber and be ready to meet your child."
Dany felt him go rigid against her, and looked up to see the naked fear and hope on his face, the breathless quality of it. And she felt it herself. Family. All she had ever wanted was family, and even now her House might be growing by a member. She squeezed his forearm, dredged up a smile for him. "Go, Jaehaerys," she said, and she could not have kept her voice steady if she had tried. "Go meet your babe."
Jaehaerys gave a jerky nod. Then he walked out with the younger of the unidentified men following him so closely Dany almost thought he would be racing his king there if not for the dignity of the knight of the Kingsguard. She felt shaky, utterly exhausted by the events of the day, the past moon's turn, and all the years before, everything that had happened since she was last here, at home in Dragonstone. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she might have slumped all the way to the floor in weariness and relief if Ser Oswell had not caught her and swept her up in his arms. He said something about the servants' quarters, but Dany could not have cared less. She was home. She would have slept in the Dragonmont, had she had to.