The last they had spoken truthfully to one another, and not forced infront of others, it had been another argument. Another fight. Matarys had been going on and on about she needed to stay in Westeros while he went off to fight, because she was a woman and women are simply weaker beings. Naturally she had told him that the only way in the Westeros she wouldn't be fighting is if he kept her in the cells and kept her prisoner throughout the war. Which most certainly would've resulted in diplomatic problems with Dorne, which is exactly why Ysera had used it. She had backed him into a corner, eyes blazing with the fire that her husband lacked.
He was all ice, and she was the blazing fire.
With all of his talk, Ysera had been sure that he would walk up to the cot in the medical tent that she had been spending her days and nights with a few injuries here and there but otherwise unharmed and start lecturing her about her own injuries. Injuries she had gotten while protecting his eldest brother, but he'll overlook that detail to fret and lecture and bemoan the fact that until she was healed, there won't be any Targaryen heirs for the Tower of Joy. Ysera was certainly not as worried about this as her husband, because why stress over such a thing when they would have years to have children. Besides, if Matary's wants children so badly he truly needed to stop pissing her off and swear that their firstborn, boy or girl, will be his heir in following of Dornish law.
But this, this is not what she was expecting. As wrapped and bruised and bound she was, she hadn't expected this.
Dickon, thankfully, was unharmed in the fighting and had helped her to her husbands side and it was there that she stayed. Even as they operated on him, even when the Maester fretted over her seeing blood. Ha, as though she was some delicate little dove who had never seen the shedding of blood. She had shed some herself in this war. But with Matarys, injured as he was, that is when the fear snuck into her.
That Matarys might actually die.
Yes, they may argue and fight and who knows if they would ever truly see eye to eye, but that did not mean Ysera wished him dead. True, if he did die then certainly her life would become a bit easier and she wouldn't have to venture to Kings Landing ever again, but by the Seven she did not want him dead. She wanted him to live, and if he died then who would she have to argue with? Besides, she was too high spirited and fiery to be a widow! And so she had had a cot moved so that she would be close by his side, and any who tried to argue against her choices certain discovered that once she had put her mind to something there was no way to change it.
Mors had lent her a small text to keep her entertained as both she and her husband healed, which is very much what her current activity was. Which was quite a feat, given that one of her arms was bound and in a sling, but Ysera made it work. And as she read, her eyes would flicker to her husbands slumbering form, with both of her eyes once more working due to the swelling having gone down. Which meant that, the moment her husbands eyes flickered open, Ysera became aware of him being awake. And what would be the first words to her husband?
"If there should be any other wars, it will be you who will be locked up to keep you from fighting."