With the shipments of dragonglass in hand, Rhaena had very little to do in truth. She reunited with Arya, embracing her and ruffling her hair playfully before they parted ways and she went in search of Bran instead. He was not difficult to find, opening the door to his room after knocking to find him bathed in the soft glow of the crackling hearth, staring into the flames with that distant, faraway look which seemed as if he no longer existed upon this present plane. Rhaena winced but closed the door behind her as she stepped inside, calling to him softly as she approached. Only when she knelt down before him did Bran look at her, feeling her hand come to rest upon his knee. Turning his head, he saw her eyes dancing with the image of the fire, an amber glow touching her hair as she looked at him with a pained expression. "What has happened to you, sweet Bran? You seem as if you no longer know me." Reaching forwards, Rhaena brushed at his hair, neatening it before then allowing her hand to drop. "Have I done something to earn your antipathy?" Bran continued to stare at her with that distant expression.

"I know you, Rhaena." He told her simply, yet his unfeeling words cut deep. Tears threatened to spill as Rhaena gazed at him.

"You are no longer the summer child I knew, are you? That boy died long ago, did he not? Tell me Bran. Tell me what happened. I should like to understand, if I can." Continuing his study of Rhaena's face, Bran thought back to the days of his boyhood where he had known Rhaena. They had been fleeting, but some of the happiest days of his life. He could recall the joy in seeing her, his rapture in listening to her songs and stories which were always far better than any Old Nan used to tell. He remembered the hours spent playing and chasing one another, the time he had taught her to climb Winterfell's wall and how they had sat wrapped up in her cloak upon the rooftop as they watched the dawn break upon his home. In truth Bran missed those days, but they seemed as distant as the southern sea. Unreal to him unless he chose to sink back into those memories and watch them unfold time and time again. In truth he had done so many times, going back to his boyhood and watched the days spent with Rhaena Targaryen, who had held his utmost fascination even long after she had vanished from his life. After becoming the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran had gone back and witnessed the moments of her life before they had met, and had even managed to commune with her when her own magic had responded to his presence, such as it had in Riverrun years past. He witnessed her birth, watched as she was pulled from her mother a squalling babe, screaming as life filled her lungs. Bran knew the truth. Knew that Rhaena was the firstborn of the sisters. No one else would be able to prove it, but he knew. If it were not for someone else who had a greater claim to the Iron Throne, then it would have been Rhaena's right and not her sister's to claim it, for Daenerys was the younger.

He had watched as Rhaena's mother had ordered the wetnurse to take Rhaena and flee, wanting to separate her children in order to better their chances at survival. Bran had watched the wetnurse flee, watched as they were betrayed by the ship's captain who sailed them directly to King's Landing and handed them over to Robert Baratheon, observed as his father took hold of Rhaena and sheltered her in his arms to protect her and advocated for her life. Rhaena did not know it, but Bran had walked by her side for most of her life. He bore witness to all that she had been forced to endure, stood beside her when she was betrayed, accompanied her in her lowest moments even when she was set loose in the Kingswood naked and drenched in blood to be hunted. Although she could not feel or see him, Bran had been there with her, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort her, but he could not. Yet here she was before him, tears threatening to spill and Bran realised that this was the first time they might speak as equals. He was no longer a child, and she no longer a prisoner. The tears glimmered, causing the reflection of the flames to intensify in her gaze though they remained warm and gentle. His thoughts drew away from the past and the future, and instead focused on the present as Rhaena anchored him to her, albeit unwittingly. A hint of a smile graced his lips and he reached out to her, cupping her cheek in order to brush his thumb at her damp lashes. "Thank you," he murmured to her, taking Rhaena by surprise. "Thank you for surviving. For protecting Sansa. For your actions which saved my brothers. You do not realise it, but your existence has changed a great deal of what might have been. So, thank you, Rhaena. Thank you for existing." Stunned and a little lost for words, Rhaena blinked at Bran mutely as she attempted to understand what he was talking about. Sansa and Robb had explained a little to her of what had become of Bran and why he was the way he was now, but she did not fully understand what a three-eyed raven was. Bran did not look like a raven, nor could she see more than the two eyes he was born with. Yet it was true he was different, however for a brief moment, Rhaena was convinced she saw a hint of his old self in his smile as his eyes danced before her.

"Oh Bran…you do not need to thank me for anything." She finally breathed, allowing herself to settle as she leaned closer towards him. "Thank you for surviving. I know you lost a great deal, but still I am happy you are alive and here." Bran wondered at what might have been had he not been pushed from that tower that day. In his mind he saw himself going with his father to King's Landing, where he would have become ensnared by the Lannisters' plots and schemes after the downfall of his father. Perhaps he would have escaped with Rhaena and Sansa when they had, perhaps not. In any case, there was no use in wondering in what might have been, he could only see what was and what had been. No such power existed that could see lost possibilities. Still…there lingered a sense of regret in him as Bran looked at Rhaena. He felt warm when he was near her, and a great deal lighter, as if the essence of her spirit alleviated the burdens which his own carried. Perhaps it was a side effect of her magic. Perhaps it was simply Rhaena. She smiled at him and reached forwards in order to kiss his cheek, satisfied that there was still at least a little of Bran present in him and that he was not a complete stranger to her. It would take a little time to know this new version of him better, but Rhaena was confident she would love him all the same. In any case, he was another person she would fight to defend.

With the shipments of dragonglass from Dragonstone, all the blacksmiths were hurrying to work them into weapons in order to combat the undead. Rhaena did not require a weapon of dragonglass herself, she had Whitefyre as well as Rhaegal and her own fire magic, so focus was put upon making swords, spearheads and other weapons for the people who required arming. Rhaena partly hoped that Cersei would arrive with wagons crammed full of the wildfyre which had not been used against Stannis when he attacked King's Landing from Blackwater Bay. With the preparations going smoothly, Rhaena found herself walking towards the library tower where she spent many a happy hour reading quietly in the past. It had changed very little from what she recalled, however now she found an unexpected occupant in the form of a rather thick bellied man clad in black. Arching her eyebrow, Rhaena waited to see how long it would be until she was noticed, amusing herself with the question as the man remained hunched over a book until he happened to look up. The man almost screamed upon seeing Rhaena who laughed, unable to hold it back as the man near enough fell from his chair, managing to scramble up onto his feet. "Princess! I mean, my lady, I mean…" Stuttering incoherently, Rhaena smiled to him.

"My apologies. I know very few people who read so fervently, I did not wish to disturb you." Blushing deeply, the stranger bowed a few times as he spoke, awkward and shy, but sweet tempered it would seem.

"No, no not at all my princess. Forgive me, I should have greeted you sooner. Um…I'm Samwell Tarly, a friend of Jon's. He's told me about you, you know. He talked about you often when we first met. On the Wall. I'm his sworn brother. Or at least…I was, before he left…" Recognising the name, Rhaena could finally put a face to the name she had long since heard. So this was Sam, the one who had discovered the importance of dragonglass, had slain a wight with a dragonglass blade, who had gone to the Citadel of Old Town in order to train to be a maester for the Night's Watch only to leave so that he might help in the war against the Night King. Rhaena smiled softly and approached, taking up Sam's hand in order to give his fingers a tender squeeze.

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Samwell Tarly." He blushed again, but did not stutter so much thereafter as he settled. Rhaena asked after his studies, gesturing to the books that were piled around him and Sam admitted that he had stolen them from the Citadel, causing her to laugh again. Already she liked Samwell Tarly, and as they spoke and discussed the literature, found herself growing fond of him. After the war, she would have to persuade Tyrion and Varys to drink wine with her and invite Samwell to join them. She could well imagine the discussions that might be had between them should the topic of books arise. Meeting Sam turned her thoughts to Randyll and Dickon Tarly, Sam's own family. It was perhaps fortunate that she had happened upon them mere moments before their execution, for it would be a poor way to repay everything Sam had done by murdering his own father and brother. Rhaena had already heard from Ser Jorah how Sam had been the one to cure him of Greyscale. Daenerys would have erred significantly had Rhaena not stood against her in her decision to burn both men alive. Perhaps now she might see this fact, and be grateful that she did not have to inform the man who had saved her beloved knight that she had burned his family alive.

Keeping such truths to herself, Rhaena saw no reason to reveal them as of yet. It was her sister's folly, let her own to it herself. So instead Rhaena wished Sam good reading before retiring from the library, not wishing for her presence to disrupt his concentration. Instead she simply returned to her room and sat at the window, watching as the night quickened and the castle of Winterfell refused to sleep. There was still too much work to be done, but nothing Rhaena could do to help. All she could do was sit and wait, and that was perhaps the hardest part of all.